Maladroit
by Clark-G
Summary: She felt guilty and always had. She was just helping out a friend with his pain which, to some degree, was her fault. That was the only way she could reconcile sitting on the floor of his office with him, leaning in such a way...
1. Massage

Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters. They belong to Fox and David Shore & Co.

A/N: Consider any spoilers from an episode aired in the US to date fair game. Also, I will earn this M rating. Eventually.

xxxx

"House!" She was too concerned to mask it in her voice. He had lost his step and had grabbed for whatever he could to keep from falling. It just so happened that Cuddy was the closest thing to him. They're uncomfortably contorted, her trying to help him to his feet, him hunching over, inadvertently pulling her down with him.

"House. Are you okay?" She'd given in and slowly brought him to the floor, kneeling next to him.

"Peachy." He managed to spit out. She only sighed in response. Not knowing exactly in what way to comfort him. Sometimes the line between helping and hurting wasn't so clear with him. She kept her hand on his back, trying to keep it as still as possible so as not to give away her uneasiness. He breathed heavily, rubbing his leg up and down. He felt the familiar fire pulsating through his thigh and he could feel the heat in other, unrelated places. He often felt pain everywhere when his leg was this bad.

When the pain had eased up ever so slightly, he felt the heat in his cheeks as well, as he gave her a quick embarrassed look with his furrowed brow. He turned away tucking his chin down. He didn't like being vulnerable like this in her presence, it gave credence to her perverse sense of guilt that frankly annoyed him.

"M'fine." He tries to stand but the fire shoots through him and he lets out sudden grunt that startles her.

"House. You're not fine. Come sit." She tried to guide him to the chair in the corner of his office. He just shook his head and sunk further to the floor. She bends her legs underneath her and sits on her calves. She puts her hand back on his back. "House," she says as if were a statement in itself.

"Just go."

"I've haven't seen you this bad since-"

"Go." He's fumbling around his pocket for his Vicodin and she calmly pushes his hand aside and grabs the bottle, opens it, sifts two pills out and hands them to him. He quickly throws his head back in that addict manner that always bothered her. "More" he spits out.

"More than two at a time is n-"

"Wouldn't want you to feel guilty," He says through clenched teeth, grabbing the bottle out of her hand and swallowing a few more. She tightened her cheeks and watched with a sympathetic furrowed brow. Truth be told she felt guilty as hell and while he was usually good at not reminding her how much of his pain was her fault, he didn't mind rubbing it in at the moment.

It would take a minute for the pills to kick in so for the moment he grabbed at his thigh with desperately quick movements, attempting to rub the pain away. He made fists and ground them into the skin around his scar.

"Here." She pushed his hand away again, rubbing his leg for him. If she was in any way unsure of her actions, it didn't show. House was surprised. He fought the urge to stop her, intrigued by her willingness to put herself in such a vulnerable position. He knew if he spoke he'd ruin it. If he said the wrong thing, she'd stop.

She nearly flinched at the feeling of the rippled flesh under the fabric of his pants. Her fingers made their way along the outside of the deep canyon of missing muscle, feeling what was left of it tense under her touch. She pushed her stiffened fingertips into the flesh around his scar, occasionally grazing it and feeling a pang of guilt every time she imagined it.

She was being cautious, each movement tentative. She'd seen the way he went at his leg earlier; rough, rapid movements. She was too afraid of hurting him to go at him with the same fervor he did on himself. She was startled by his hand suddenly enveloping hers and placing it directly on top of his scar with no discretion. With his hand firmly gripped around hers he proceeds to roughly massage his leg with her hand.

"Later I'll teach you the 'happy ending' technique," Once he was sure she'd gotten the hang of it he let go and they sat in silence for about a minute while she rubbed his leg. Finally, the silence getting the better of her, she spoke.

"You could be getting better." She said, thinking-- hoping maybe the nerves in his leg were finally regenerating.

"Doubt it." He said, knowing better than to hope. He'd hoped once before and it was thrown back in his face. He felt a little bubble of pain pop in his thigh just thinking about it. She was thinking about it too. She felt a little guiltier with the thought of it and became more focused on her attempts to make him feel better. He felt her sudden enthusiasm with each stroke of his thigh. He hadn't expected it to actually make him feel any better but, if he was being honest it did feel a little better. Good even. But it was probably just the Vicodin starting to kick in.

"Let me do an MRI." She said, almost pleading.

"No need." He said, watching her work. Admiring it from his angle. He could see down her shirt. Not that it was difficult, with the blouse she was wearing. He thought about making a comment about how the girls were looking particularly pert today but thought better on it. He ignored his sudden birth of a conscience.

"House, if your leg is getting better- or worse. You should know." he didn't know what to tell her. He knew his leg wasn't getting better, not only was it highly unlikely but he happened to know for a fact that it wasn't getting better. Or worse, for that matter. His leg was hurting because earlier he had challenged a cane-bound patient to a cane race down the hall. He knew it would cause him pain later but her couldn't refuse when someone baited him like that. Anyway, he'd won. He knew if he told her that, however, he would lose all of this sudden sympathy. So he didn't dare give up that information.

"We both know my leg isn't getting better," he said simply.

"Well, what if it's getting worse?" She didn't look at him. She was afraid to for some reason. She didn't want to see his reaction to that question. She'd seen him a broken man enough to shy away from the idea of it. She hates seeing him like that.

"Maybe I don't want to know." He said, feigning a wounded expression when her eyes shot up to look at him.

"You can't be serious. House, you fought to keep your leg before and now you're giving up?" He was enjoying this game, and hiding it well. He was using her for his own... desire? Was he using her for the massage? That seemed pathetic, even for him.

"I'm not giving up," he almost laughed "Maybe I'd rather live my life blissfully ignorant." He was reminding himself of 13, back when she refused to get tested. But that didn't even sound like him and she knew it.

"I thought you were all about the truth." She stopped rubbing.

"And I thought you were giving me a massage."

"House, I'm not giving you anything until you let me MRI your leg." She thought

"I'll let you do whatever you want to me, just keep going." She laughed and continued rubbing his thigh. He loves her laugh. Deep, almost like a smoker but still had a feminine quality to it. And she has a beautiful smile that, on the rare occasion House gets to see it, can really light a room up.

He could see the look of concentration on her face. She was rocking back and forth, leaning into him as if purposefully allowing him a perfect view down her shirt. She must have noticed. Maybe she was just ignoring him. 'Maybe she likes it,' he mused with a smile.

"Stop it." She said with a laugh.

"Stop what?" house asked innocently.

"It doesn't make me any more comfortable doing this with you leering at me with that goofy smile."

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid if I look away I might accidentally imagine Debby from accounting and I don't think that would be comfortable for either of us."

"Oh, I don't do it for you anymore?" She laughed.

"I dunno. Do you?" His tone was suggestive, not that she wasn't used to it but in the particular situation it wasn't welcomed.

"You look like you're doing better." She says, attempting to remove her hand. Before she can, house grabs her hand, keeping it rested on his thigh, which, after the Vicodin had kicked, was feeling much better.

"It hurts," he says quite seriously.

"It always hurts. The pills must be working by now."

"You want your MRI..." She sighs and continues. This time, with less enthusiasm. Her hand doesn't dig into his muscle, just glides across its surface, like a soft caress. House can't tell which he likes best. On one hand, he misses the slight bounce of her breast as she had tried to lesson the ache of his muscle, on the other hand, this new, softer massage sent a shiver though him.

It was cold in his office. He could tell she was cold just from looking at the way her nipples beaded through her shear button down blouse. He imagined her touching him like this under different circumstances, though her outfit didn't leave much to the imagination. Her tight pencil skirt hugged her figure nicely, showing off the perfect plumpness of her ass. The neckline of her blouse, with the top three buttons undone, exposed the rounded tops of her breasts which with the new vision of her nipples, he could now imagine completely. And her face, she really was beautiful. Exotic, even. Her eyes were a pale blue, they were cold and juxtaposed the warmth of her deep brown hair that shimmered underneath the light of the floor lamp in his office. She truly was a sight to behold. And now she was on her knees, absentmindedly letting her hand roam away from his scar to his inner thigh.

It moved. In his pants he felt it move. Shit. Had she noticed? She didn't seem to. She was lost in thought. He wondered what she was thinking about.

She felt guilty and always had. She was just helping out a friend with his pain which, to some degree, was her fault. That was the only way she could reconcile sitting on the floor of his office with him, leaning in such away that she was sure he could see at least a fraction of her bra, maybe more. She knew what he was looking at and let him still. Her heart raced a bit at the thought of him watching her. She didn't dare look up to catch him, or look anywhere but at his thigh. But she could imagine him staring, with that intense look on his face. It made her nervous to think of him examining her so closely. She hated that about him. She was a confident woman who worked damn hard to get where she was so how is it that she was reduced to a preteen girl in his presence. She stoops to his level when they bicker and banter, she's insecure when he makes wisecracks about her assets and indulges his every sexual innuendo. Though if she were being honest, she is a stronger person for it and enjoys every second of it.

She can see his dark blue eyes watching her in her peripheral vision. His eyes really are beautiful. His mussed hair and stubble are also visible in her peripheral, placed on his stone-still figure, that was now watching her very closely. She imagined his face directly in her mind and while she'd told hi many times before to comb his hair and shave his five o'clock shadow off completely, they had grown on her. She was beginning to find even his wrinkled shirts a bit sexy. She feels a burn in her cheeks and forehead. She wonders if he can tell she's flushed. 'Of course he can, he notices everything!' she thinks to herself. He can probably tell what she's thinking right now. The thought scared her and she decided to focus more on what she's doing. When she does this, she realizes her hand has strayed from the scar and was now practically stroking his inner thigh. Maybe if she slowly moves it back to where it's supposed to be he won't notice. 'Of course he notices!' she scolds herself. Before she can move her hand back to its proper position, she sees it. He's aroused.

"House!" She yells at him.

"What?" He seems calm with the idea of having become aroused while his boss massaged his scar. He was a tinge embarrassed but hell if he was going to let her know that.

"You're- You've got a..." she was not so good at hiding her embarrassment and her cheeks became three shades redder. It made him relax even more at the sight of her discomfort.

"A hard on?" he offered.

"Yes! You've got an erection." She said almost angrily, motioning to his groin.

"What's the matter? I thought you'd be proud."

"Not exactly." She said, calming down now.

"Well you earned it." She rolled her eyes, standing, trying to gain some distance from him. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to leave you to... deal with things." She explained, taking a step towards the door.

"You get me going and then you don't deliver?" He seemed genuinely upset but still had humor in his eyes.

"You think this is my fault?"

"Well I certainly didn't arouse myself! At least I hope not." He paused a second to pretend to mull that over. "And I'm not the one who was caressing my own inner thigh. In case you hadn't noticed, my adductor muscle is in perfect condition."

"I-" She had hoped he wouldn't bring that up. "I didn't mean to," she explained quietly.

"Well neither did I," He said referring to what now created a nice tent in his pants.

"Well what do you expect me to do, House? What is the appropriate way to handle this?" She knew what he was going to say.

"You just massaged me into arousal on the floor of my office. There is no appropriate way to handle this."

"Yes there is. I should go and we should never speak of this again." She knew it was a long shot. House would never let this go. She could practically hear it now 'Hey Cuddy! Remember that time you gave me a woody?" She's already rolling her eyes at the thought of it.

"Then go. If that's what you want." He said trying to stand, appearing to struggle more than was necessary. She bent over and offered her hand to help him. He didn't take it. She walked over to grab his arm to help him, he didn't stop her. Once he was standing they just stood there. She thought about it for a second. He was making her so nervous. Like high school.

"Is it what you want?"

"You know what I want," he smiled. He took a small, nearly painless step in her direction.

"I think..." She stopped mid thought and changed directions, unbeknownst to him. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. "-I think you should go to the bathroom and take care of this yourself." She took a moment before giving him a quick nod, reaffirming her decision. She left House standing in his office. Disappointed and erect.

xxxx

TBC?


	2. Surprise

Disclaimer: House belongs to Fox and David Shore.

A/N: Thanks for the kind reviews. I forgot to mention that this is my first fic since I was probably fourteen years old. And that was a little while ago. I'd also like to thank my greatest friend, Pippa, (and fellow Huddy fan) for editing both this and the last chapter for me. Enjoy.

xxxx

Cuddy had spent most of her day avoiding House after the events of the previous night in his office. It wasn't that she was afraid of what he'd say, she was more afraid of not knowing what _she_ would say. She had instructed her assistant specifically to tell House she was in a meeting should he come to visit, knowing he didn't have a patient so there would be no crazy procedures he needed her to sign off on.

She pulled up to her house feeling relief and surprise at having successfully avoided him all day long and knew it would be both childish and unrealistic to avoid him again tomorrow so she was playing out in her head what she might say in response to what she knew he would say.

She was whispering to herself 'it wasn't that big of a deal' as she pulled out her keys and unlocked her door, pushing it open. She turns on the light, puts her purse by the door, takes off her coat, draping it over her arm and makes her way to her bedroom, ready for a hot bath. From behind her she hears a man's voice.

"You've been avoiding me." An embarrassing sound of surprise, best described as a shriek, leaves her lips and she turns to find him sitting in her living room, in her chair, like an evil villain in an action film.

"House!" He smiled at her response. "How did you get in here?" She said marching into her living room, throwing her coat onto the couch.

"Key under the pot by the front door. You really never change." He watched her expression go from surprise to anger before repeating "you've been avoiding me."

"Yeah, going home like that, how cruel of me." He loved it when she used her angry, sarcastic voice. She braced herself for this discussion that she was completely unprepared for.

"In meetings all day? Are you in talks to adapt your life to a television movie? Can Jean Claude Van Dam play me?"

"You wouldn't be in it. And I've been busy with investors." She crossed her arms hoping to have an air of authority about her but she just came off as defensive.

"Who are investing in bouncers to physically keep me from entering your office?" He continued to sit, not threatened by her posturing.

"Don't be juvenile. Not everything is about you."

"Usually when I skip clinic duty, I have to hide from _you_."

"Believe it or not, House, the job of Dean of Medicine entails more than babysitting the psychopathic doctors on staff."

"Psychopathic doctors?! As in, more than one? And here I thought I was super special," he said in a fake pout. He noticed she was fidgeting, waiting for him to bring up why he was really there. "You're nervous." She dropped her arms to her hips defensively.

"I am not-" her voice began too high, gave her away.

"Yes you are," he corrected. She decided to skip his games, cut him off before he could try and shock her with whatever he had cooking up.

"House, I'm not in junior high. I've seen an erection before. It's not a big deal." She said taking her blazer off and laying it on the sofa next to her.

"Oh it is a big deal. And you would have found out exactly how big, had you stuck around." He limped across the room, leaving his cane propped against the chair.

"You are such a child." She shook her head, trying not to smile.

"Which makes you a child molester."

"I didn't molest you! I was trying to help you feel better." She turned away, trying to think of some motivation to leave the room or a way to ask him to leave without looking like she was avoiding him.

"Yeah, that's what all child molesters say."

"House," she warned crossing her arms again. House didn't want to beat around the bush. As far as he was concerned, they have been dancing around this longer than he'd like. And he wasn't afraid of being blunt.

"I'll make you a deal. If you tell me that you aren't attracted to me and have absolutely no interest in having wild, animal sex with me, then I'll leave it alone and will never bring this up again." He reeked of confidence and she envied that in him, unaware that she was a formidable opponent in her own right. She often underused her abilities when arguing with him.

"House." She paused, trying to sound final on the matter. "I am not attracted to you and have absolutely no interest in having-"

"Liar! The deal does not permit lying." He pointed a threatening finger at her but sported a sly smile.

"Get out of my house." Her tone was unconvincing.

"Not until you're honest with me." His eyes were fiery blue and intense. Almost the same as when he was arguing in favor of a procedure that he knew was right.

"Did you get an MRI today?"

"No changing the subject."

"You don't make the rules. And I'm not having this conversation with you until after you MRI your leg."

"My leg is fine. Stop evading."

"I was there, I know it isn't fine."

"Yesterday I overexerted myself, stressed the muscle, but today I'm fine." He didn't want to get into details but knew she wouldn't just let it go.

"You overexerted yourself? Doing what? Big track meet?"

"I had a threesome with 13 and Cameron. Frankly, more of a spectator sport than I would have liked." Her only response was a quick roll of her eyes followed by a sigh. She remembered a cup of yogurt in the fridge with her name on it and turned to head towards the kitchen, hoping he would get the message and leave.

"I'm not lying." He called after her before following into the kitchen. She shot him a look of disbelief from over her shoulder. "Okay, about the threesome, sure, but not about the leg."

"You're unbelievable." Her voice sounded defeated. She opened the fridge and grabbed the yogurt.

"It's the truth," he leaned against the counter. She wordlessly swatted at his waste as a way of telling him he was in the way of her silverware drawer. He stood his ground.

"Move." Her voice was stern. He liked it when she used her Dean voice.

"I'm not lying," He said simply, as if this were a battle of wills, to see who would admit to being wrong first: as if he weren't half as invested in the conversation as he truly was.

"I don't doubt that. I'm talking about how you let me worry about you like that and guilt myself into trying to help you, against my better judgment."

"Right, you _guilted_ yourself into giving me a hard on." He finally moved out of her way.

"That wasn't my intention." She slid the drawer open, grabbing a silver spoon and closing it again with a bit more force than was necessary.

"I was there. You think it came out of nowhere?"

"I think you have a dirty mind." She ripped the aluminum lid off of her yogurt and tossed it at the counter.

"I do. But there's a reason I don't actually buy the porn they sell at the airport; I have self control. You were _trying_ to turn me on." He shot her a look that sent chills down her spine, like a cop in an interrogation room.

"You're an ass." She stuck her spoon in her yogurt but made no effort to et it.

"Yes but not in this context."

"You manipulated me. You used the responsibility I feel for what happened to your leg to get off." He hated having to deal with her guilt over his leg almost as much as she hated admitting it. He didn't blame her, really. If it were any other patient he would have congratulated her. Maybe he resented her a little but he could look at her without being angry. He wasn't so sure she could look at him without feeling guilty. That depressed him. Though, he decided against absolving her of her guilt a long time ago; it was too convenient for him. It allowed him to use her and get what he wanted. Though he hadn't anticipated how using her like that could ultimately blow up in his face like it had just now.

"I didn't lie to you. I told you I was fine. Take some responsibility for your own actions." He paused for a second and decided to change directions a bit. "Yeah, I could have told you the truth but I wanted you there so I omitted what I had to." Her response to this was to stand there, livid, stirring her yogurt. Not saying anything. 'Why doesn't he ever have to take responsibility for his actions?' she thought. Though she was surprised at his willingness to admit wanting her to stay but she chalked that up to him being horny. She could see the logic in telling him to leave but her mouth wasn't making those words. And he made no effort to leave. They stood there in silence for a minute.

"House," she finally spoke. "What do you want from me?"

"I told you what I want." She paused for a moment, trying to decide whether to play dumb, refuse to tell him what he wanted, or just give in. After making her decision, she placed her cup of yogurt on the counter with a soft sigh.

"I _am_ attracted to you. Naturally, building from there, I have entertained the notion of having sex with you, be it wild, animal sex or otherwise. Is that all you wanted?" He didn't respond. If she weren't so put off by their current situation, she would find humor in his shocked expression. She raised her eyebrows questioningly to elicit some response from him.

"Yeah," he nodded quickly. He couldn't tell if this response was a good thing or a bad thing. Either, she really did want him, which was good, or she was willing to say whatever it took to get him to leave her alone, which wasn't. Her face was, for once, emotionless and didn't give away much.

"Is that all you're eating for dinner?" He motioned his head towards her untouched cup of yogurt, awkwardly ignoring what she knew he wanted to say. She nodded.

"Let's get something to eat."

"House." She said in protest.

"I'm not asking you to sleep with me. But you should eat something other than 236 grams of fermented milk with 100 million cultures of bacteria per gram." He said with a face contorted in such away that conveyed his dislike of yogurt. "Eat with me."

"I'm not hungry."

"Fine. Then sleep with me." He knew it wasn't the right thing to say but he was too curious not to push the conversation back in that direction and she wasn't really surprised.

"House." She was already preparing her case against it.

"You just said you'd entertained the idea."

"I did. But I won't." She wasn't looking him in the eye, just leaning on the counter, unintentionally mirroring his posture.

"Why not?" He was visibly frustrated.

"House, you get away with more than anyone ever should because people don't expect anything from you." She let her words settle in him before continuing. "I can't just dismiss everything you do as 'house being house' while you get a free pass to do as you please. As your boss, policing you and cleaning up your messes is a part of my job I have come to accept. A large part, actually. And I just don't have room for that in my personal life. I am attracted to you, but I don't want to sleep with you." She knew that last part sounded unconvincing but didn't care. "I know I can't count on you and I don't expect you to change. I'd just be setting myself up to get hurt and not to mention risking my job for you. And I can't do that again. Not over sex."

"I understand." He really did. But he didn't like it. The look of disappointment on his face was heartbreaking and she didn't want to see it even if he made her life miserable sometimes. Though she did have little sympathy for him at the moment. He disrespects her all day and then has the nerve to be upset about her not wanting to throw herself at him? In fact, she grew angry at the thought of it.

"I think you should go. " He wanted to argue but what could he say that wouldn't be manipulative? He was beginning to wonder if he was capable of any form of sincerity. He nodded and turned to go but shot her one last humble glance before leaving the kitchen. She didn't see him out, just listened to the reluctant sound of the door closing behind him. She found that she didn't have much of an appetite any more. She threw her yogurt in the trash and left the kitchen, turning the light out as she went into the hallway to retrieve her coat from the sofa to hang it up properly.

Her guard was completely down as she felt a hand come down on her shoulder, and she could actually feel her parasympathetic nervous system at work as her insides shook and she struggled to keep from peeing on herself. This was the second time tonight she'd spun around, wide eyed, to find House, unwelcome, in her home.

"Shit!" She couldn't find words to express her anger as her heart continued to spin out like the impetus of a ten-car-pile-up. "House, what are you doing?!" her voice was shaking.

He knew he didn't stand a chance trying to explain himself. It wasn't like he had been hiding or tricked her intentionally. He'd gone to the door with the intention of leaving but upon opening it, felt the chill outside and closed the door immediately, feeling the warmth of her house like a corporeal metaphor dragging him back to her. He waited there, with his hand on the doorknob debating until he saw her and made a decision.

It wasn't that people didn't expect anything from him; they expected the worse from him. He decided not to say anything at all; she'd made up her mind on what kind of person he was. He decided to be more direct.

She stood waiting for his explanation but instead found the vision of his face coming closer to hers. She wanted desperately to stop him and rehash her speech but she couldn't remember a single reason why she wouldn't want him to kiss her.

She lifted her hand to stop him but put not force in it. It ended up just resting on his chest as his mouth met hers. Her heart had never stopped racing as it went from one motivation to the other; fear, to anger, to whatever it was that she was feeling now.

It wasn't like she had expected. She thought he would want the instant gratification of a hard, wet kiss but his lips just rested against hers. His mouth was parted and she waited for his tongue to knock, to be let in but it never came. She could feel his breath against her mouth and it made her heart beat even faster.

He moved his lips to encompass only her top lip, pressing down, as if sucking on it gently. She made a small effort to deepen the kiss but letting her tongue slide across his bottom lip, as if baiting him. But he didn't accept, he just continued nursing her lip with his own. Naturally she leaned into him using his solid stance to support her. He responded by simply holding her elbows as she leaned against him.

She was driving him crazy with her tongue and he considered doing things with his tongue that would push her over the edge but after what she'd said earlier, he had something to prove. Or maybe he was just being even more manipulative and passive aggressive. He couldn't tell anymore.

One more little nip at her lip and she let out a slight moan, cursing herself seconds later for seeming so easy. House couldn't stand it any longer and his tongue left the safety of his mouth to meet hers and they collided together for a second. His hands, having risen to the occasion were on the sides of her face, pulling her closer and their heads moved from one side to the other, both of them trying to get a better angle, to taste just a little more. But House still controlled the pace and he had set it achingly slow.

Her hands were still on his chest and she slid them down slowly to his stomach. She was having a hard time focusing on any one thing as a million thoughts raced through her head, screaming at her to stop, pleading with her not to. So many conflicting desires exploding into nothing, leaving her mind blank and then blown by every stroke oh his tongue on hers. 'God, he's a good kisser,' was the only coherent thought that she was sure she would remember later.

He was completely lost. Part of him wanting to leave just as she did the night before, another part of him wanting to stay and make her moan all night long, making her regret ever having turned him down.

But he was thinking about what she'd said. And even if she wasn't right, even if he wouldn't disappoint her, he knew he had to put the ball in her court. He needed her to retract what she'd said or at least act on her feelings in spite of it. He wanted her to want him in spite of herself.

So he ended it. Pulling back, leaving her breathless and surprised, wanting more but unable or unwilling to vocalize it. She just stood, stunned at what had just transpired.

"I'm gonna go now." He waited to see the disappointment in her face, feeling a tinge of guilt over how much he enjoyed it. But it wasn't that he enjoyed disappointing her, he enjoyed knowing that he could, knowing that his leaving would affect her. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

"I think that's a good idea," she said in spite of her disappointment, hating herself for it as soon as she'd said it. After he left, she used the chain lock behind him; her fragile heart could take no more surprises.

The cold, late autumn air stung House's cheeks as he sped home on his motorcycle. The reverberations shook through his body and he could feel it in his maimed thigh like the only cure he knew, temporary as it may be. He liked the ride because of the focus it required; he could seldom think of anything but the road. Tonight was different, however; she was the only thing on his mind; her lips, her tongue, her ass.

She was right; he was no good for her. He once told her, had she not been so naïve, she never would have hired him. He could tell her the same thing now if he weren't so selfish, if he could see anything beyond his desire. The last thing he needed was another Stacy. Someone who thought they knew him, only to be surprised when he didn't change or, god forbid, changed for the worse. Someone whose heart he would break. The only woman whose heart he wouldn't break is the woman who only gave him an hour; even he didn't work that fast.

Cuddy deserved better than him and he was sure of that. Was he selfish enough to pursue her anyway? He gave Stacy a break, how could he knowingly condemn someone else to that fate? He rolled his eyes at his own clichéd self-loathing.

What about sex? Uncomplicated sex. House knew there wasn't such a thing and Cuddy didn't seem the type to have sex without promise of some sort of some kind of future. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. But then, she's made her decision.

He arrived at his house, limping inside, getting himself a glass of scotch, popping a few pills, settling on the couch, and letting the television wash over him. When he had a case he could think of little else but when he didn't, his mind was an empty vessel, ready to be filled with whatever he decided to obsess about. Cuddy was just something he could occupy himself with, just another puzzle. It was easier to think about her when he qualified it like that.

He picked up the phone; but thinking better on it, hung it back up. With a strong sense of self loathing, he picked up the phone again and dialed, had a short conversation with the person on the other end and hung up. 'Like ordering takeout,' he mused to himself. But he didn't need a justification; House was never one to shy away from self-loathing.

He replayed her words in his head, throwing back a few more pills and pouring himself another glass. He couldn't help but analyze her justification. '_I know I can't count on you and I don't expect you to change_'. She always expects better from him. People who expect nothing are never disappointed, yet he disappoints Cuddy again and again.

_'I can't do that again_.' Again, she'd said, referencing their history. Things didn't used to be so complicated. Now, he imagines their lives are monuments built out of gray area, molded by every inept decision. Such an ugly thing, he imagines. He poured himself another glass but just places it on the coffee table in front of him. She's so beautiful. That was his last coherent thought as his brain stumbled into sleep.

His head popped up a little while later to what he thought, for a second, he'd imagined. Nope, there it is again: knocking. Very hesitant knocking, like a nervous girl scout selling cookies. The scattered books and the still full glass of scotch on the coffee table slowly came into focus. He begrudgingly lifted himself off the couch, experiencing a bout of vertigo upon standing. He stumbled for a second, finding his footing on the way to the door.

He didn't look through the peep hole before opening the door, thinking he knew for certain who was behind it. When the door swung open, he was surprised in a way that he rarely could be anymore, having been so completely jaded by life.

Standing there were two beautiful brunettes bound and buttoned to the throat with scarves and trench coats, visibly confused at the others presence.

'_Shit_' was the only thought going through his head. He hadn't expected this.

xxxx


	3. Invité

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Fox and David Shore and KJ and, well, you know the drill.

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews, they're great motivation for a lazy writer like me so thanks for keeping me going.

xxxx

After House left, Cuddy found herself stuck, staring, lost in thought, toothbrush in-hand, replaying the kiss in her head. Occasionally her mouth absent-mindedly contorted in such a way that if one didn't know any better, might think she were smiling.

She felt like a young girl after her first kiss: the conflicting panic and excitement of not knowing what it meant or where to go from there. It certainly made things more difficult. She'd left the hospital just hours ago, worried about how to deal with the aftermath of the massage fiasco. The fall-out from the kiss would, no doubt, prove to be much more difficult to handle.

She looked into the mirror seeing the fragmented pieces of flesh that made up her face. Her nose, which she'd always felt was too big. Her eyes, one of which was higher than the other; she was born with a slight case of hyperphoria. Her lips. House had just kissed those lips. She ran her tongue across her top lip, she could almost still taste him there. She brushed her teeth and moved back into her bedroom, undressing herself as she continued to think about him.

When she was down to just her underwear, she moved to her full-length mirror. And looked at herself. She had the body of a much younger woman and dressed it with confidence. There was nary a chink in her armor. Even at the end of a long day, the rhythmic click of her Manolo Blahnik's didn't miss a bit on the tired floors of her hospital.

Looking at herself in her matching lacy black bra and panties, she imagined House looking at her. Watching her as her hand made its way to her back, pulling on the fabric of her bra, unhooking it, letting the straps fall down her shoulders, She hesitated before removing it completely, exposing her breasts to the room.

She closed her eyes and saw House's intense, blue stare. She tried to push the image of him out of her head but he was stubborn, even in her imagination. His brow furrowed, telling her that it's focused on nothing but her. She loved his expressions when he was so carried away in his thoughts, diagnosing, obsessing. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head, the inner machinations of which will always remain an enigma to her. He has an absolute devotion to his puzzle and the undeniable genius with which his brain ran through his categorized knowledge of medicine was breathtaking. She loved just watching him think.

Now, in her head, the only thing he was thinking about was her. His high-powered perception was pointed only at her, at her nearly naked body. Her eyes were closed as she inched her panties down her legs and she saw his eyes widen and she felt nervous, despite her being alone. She felt the familiar stirring in her legs, the manufacturing of liquids; the well hidden, tell tale sign of her feelings for him. The same tingling that occurred the night before in his office, only his arousal had been much more obvious and had upstaged her own. Perhaps that was what had worried her the most. That was really why she had avoided him all day.

Not liking where this train of thought was going, she dropped it while moving to the next room and got ready to take her bath. But as she began to run the water, testing the temperature with her fingers, her mind wandered back to him again. She was annoyed at her inability to think of anything else. Why had he kissed her? He was probably just screwing wither her as usual. But why did he look so hurt when she turned him down? He's usually so resilient and apathetic. He was probably just disappointed he wasn't getting laid tonight. Probably.

Before she realized what she was doing, she was turning off the faucet, marching back into her bedroom and was putting her underwear back on, and slipping on an easy, casual dress that tied at the waste. She'd made up her mind to do something impulsive, not giving herself a chance to second-guess. Her mind and her body would be at an impasse if she went off autopilot, if her body wasn't pulling its own strings.

She put on her cream trench coat and pooled her white scarf around her neck, tucking it under her coat, between her lapels. Then, grabbing her purse, she rushed out of the door and into her Honda Accord and left her house behind. She made it a point to not to think too much en route, always one self judgment away from turning around.

It was always difficult to find parking near his apartment but this time there was a spot adjacent to his front door. She held up the car behind her for a few seconds while she parallel parked. The car went on to park just a little ways farther down the street.

Cuddy paused a moment before getting out, finally letting her mind catch up with her body. Her heart began to race as she played out what might happen in the next hour or so. She wasn't sure what she wanted to happen. Maybe she was just going to talk with him. After all, she wasn't quite clear what he wanted from her. Or what she wanted from him. It would be nice to get all that out in the open finally. That would be way better than lying awake in her bed all night obsessing about him, the kiss, their conversation (as she was no doubt going to do). But what if he was just messing with her? He wasn't above that. Maybe he just wanted her to admit her feelings so he could tease her for the rest of her life. But wouldn't he have done that already if that were his intentions?

The sound of a car door closing outside snapped her out of her thoughts. Realizing she'd come too far to chicken out now, she opened her car door and got out. She heard an approaching clicking; the sound of a woman in heels. She turned to find what she could make out in the dark as a tall brunette with wavy hair not unlike her own, perhaps a bit longer. The woman was wearing a black trench coat and a charcoal colored scarf, which complimented it nicely. As the woman came into the overhead light, Cuddy could see her exotic olive colored face which was wearing perhaps a bit too much make-up, and unnecessarily so; the young woman was beautiful. Cuddy looked down to the source of the clicking, an expensive pair of Jimmy Choo's, at least five hundred dollars. As the woman came closer, Cuddy realized she was headed towards the same building.

"I'm sorry, do you live in this building?" Cuddy asked, feeling guilty over having taken the closer spot.

"No, I'm just visiting." The woman corrected with a warm smile. They both turned to walk towards the steps of house's building.

"You wouldn't happen to have the time." Cuddy was beginning to wonder if she'd arrived too late. The last thing she needed was for him to be cranky. Though something told her, he wouldn't be too crabby upon seeing her. She smiled at that thought.

"Just after ten," The woman said, pushing back her sleeve to look at her watch. House wouldn't be in bed that early.

"Thank you." Cuddy held the door open for the other woman.

"You're welcome. I love your shoes." The woman said, looking down with a polite smile.

"Thank you." Cuddy followed the young woman into the building. They walked a few steps together before stopping at the same door. Not noticing that Cuddy had stopped next to her, the young woman rapped three times on the door. Then looking over to find Cuddy there, looked at her curiously.

"Wait. Are you here to see-?" A realization finally hit Cuddy and her mind denied it at first but upon giving the woman another once-over, reaffirmed her suspicion. Her face turned to complete shock at the sight of the woman. "Are you-?" She couldn't find the right words.

The young, black-coated woman opened her mouth to speak but didn't. She wasn't sure what was going on either. She was visibly very young, and perhaps inexperienced in how to deal with this kind of situation, whatever this situation may be. Who was this woman in the cream colored coat? Without asking, she simply, knocked again; turning away from Cuddy, hoping whoever came to the door would have the answer. She just hoped this other woman wasn't who she thought she might be.

"Who are you?" Cuddy finally asked, a bit angrily, if the young, black-coated woman had heard it right.

They both turned upon hearing the approaching sound of two feet and a cane. Cuddy with a nervous, angry, confusion bubbling up inside of her stood, waited with her mouth slightly ajar.

The door swung open, revealing a tired looking House. He seemed to sober up upon viewing the two women before him. Under very different circumstances, the sight of the two women would make him ecstatic, now it was giving him a very undesired feeling. He hadn't anticipated Cuddy coming to visit. His mind quickly worked on damage control as he tried to diffuse the situation.

"Hi," greeted the attractive, young woman. Neither House nor Cuddy, spoke, just stared at each other for a moment. "Threesome's are seven-hundred," the hooker continued tentatively, thinking that perhaps this unexpected guest was coming o join them.

"Is she a hooker?" Cuddy asked as if it weren't already obvious. The incredulity in her voice was very obvious.

"Cuddy, this is Mindy. Mindy, Cuddy." House was sure this encounter wasn't going to end well.

"House?" Cuddy's face was heartbreaking. Her voice was faint. She was angry but more than that, she was disappointed. "What are you doing?" She didn't know why she bothered asking.

"Well, Margot and I were going to play a wholesome game of Monopoly, you're welcome to join us. Hands off the miniature thimble, though, it's mine. "

"I should go." The young prostitute, now having a pretty good grasp on the situation, decided it would be best to leave. She figured the woman in the white coat was exactly who she feared she might be: the girlfriend. She'd only encountered 'the girlfriend' once before and had subsequently narrowly escaped with her life as a glass vase had been hurled at her head. This time was different, however, and she felt for the woman in the cream colored coat.

House dug in his pocket, retrieved his wallet and pulled out fifty dollars.

"For your trouble." He extended the offering and the young woman accepted it and left, giving Cuddy a sad glance on her way out. Cuddy had been standing, not sure exactly what to do.

"You want to come in?" House was trying to gauge how angry she was.

"Go fuck yourself." Cuddy sounded more tired than angry.

"You mad?" He knew she was, but he also figured he had a good case against her, should an argument erupt. He wished she would yell at him, show that she felt passionately about him. Yelling, he could handle, the disappointment on the other hand, was never his forte.

"Yeah, I'm mad at myself for expecting anything from you." She was getting there. Her eyes dared him to defend his actions. He accepted the dare.

"No, you're mad at me about the hooker, which, frankly, you have no right to be upset about." He was egging her on, on purpose, but she either didn't care or didn't seem to notice.

"No? You show up at my house, manipulate me into telling you I'm attracted to you, you kiss me, then go home to have sex with a prostitute. And I'm not supposed to be annoyed?" She never ceased to be amazed at his audacity, House thought that was cute.

"You're angry, not _annoyed_ and you left out the part where you said you wouldn't have sex with me. So I found another outlet." He was trying to sound as nonchalant as possible as he turned around and entered his apartment, hoping she would join him.

"So you just wanted _sex _from me?" She stood in the doorway, making no effort to follow him.

"What did you think I wanted?" That didn't come out as he had intended. She couldn't find an answer to that question. She suddenly felt very stupid. She turned away just after he'd caught her eyes begin to swell up. He felt the tiniest fraction of that guilt she feels so often and did not envy her. "I didn't ask you to come here." He could almost taste his own shoe in his mouth.

Without another word she was out the door, quickly walking down the hallway and into the cold air outside which had never felt better. She was nauseous, almost stammering to her car. How could she have been so foolish? This was her fault, she knows what to expect from him. She fumbled around with her keys, finding the right one, then fussing with it, as it seemed to not want to fit into the keyhole. She was kicking herself for having lost the damn clicker thing. The frustration making her feel as though the levy of tears in her eyes might break any second.

"Cuddy!" She heard him call from behind her. She didn't even turn around to look at his hurried limp as he tried to catch her before she'd gotten into her car. He was too late as she'd just been closing it as he'd caught up to her. "Cuddy, wait." He didn't try to mask the desperation in his voice. She ignored him, starting her engine, ready to leave him standing in the cold.

He marched around to the front of her car, blocking her leaving. She imagined running him over, then backing up and doing it again. It was very therapeutic.

"House. Move." Her voice was stern.

"No." They were both too stubborn. She sat for a second contemplating her next move before practically ripping her keys out of the ignition, opening the door, getting out of her car seat and slamming the door behind her.

"What do you want?!" She was tired of his games.

"Why did you come here?"

"I don't know. Not that it matters now." she said, her voice still angry.

"So, it wasn't to have sex with me?" He stood his ground, despite the incredulous look on her face.

"Is that all you can think about?" she asked after letting out an exasperated sigh with a frustrated smile.

"Yes." He was only a little honest. "Why else would you be here?"

"Maybe to smooth things over."

"Then where's the smoothing? Why are you so upset?"

"Oh I dunno, maybe the hooker I ran into outside of your apartment!"

"Why is that upsetting? That's my MO; hookers and drugs. You know that."

"I guess that didn't stop me from being surprised." She looked down like a little girl, avoiding his eyes.

"Surprised, sure. But you're upset." He was annoying when he pushed like this.

"You're right. I have no right to be upset with you." She folded, just wanting to leave the heat of his stare and go home. "You didn't ask me to come here. You can have sex with hookers if you want and it's none of my business."

"Exactly. You turned me down; you have no right to be angry with me if I try to get laid elsewhere. And yet you _are_ angry." She didn't respond. "Why?" She couldn't hold in her anger any longer. She opened her mouth, unaware of what was going to come out.

"Maybe it's not just about this. You drive me crazy, House; you undercut my authority and disrespect me in front of my subordinates. But I put up with you for god knows what reason and if it weren't enough for you to make my life a living hell at work, you follow me home and torment me there too. I don't get it. Why?" Her confidence has been built tenfold as her rant had progressed. House didn't like being the one who had to answer the questions.

"All of a sudden I need a reason for being an ass?"

"Yes."

"Seriously?"

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Why are you here?"

"Answer the question!"

"You first." House wasn't prepared with an answer to her questions yet. Cuddy was in no mood to play his games. 'I should have just stayed home and taken my bath,' she thought.

"Goodbye, House." She turned and quickly walked around to the driver side of her car, not wanting to be stopped again. When she pulled the door open, the end of his cane came down on it hard, slamming the door shut again.

"House!" She checked the door to make sure he didn't dent it before turning to yell at him some more. Just when she opened her mouth to speak, his lips met hers and she fought him. "House. No," she managed, when her mouth broke away from his. He stepped away from her, running his hand over the back of his head.

"Sorry." He wasn't sure if he really meant that or not. Probably not. The light of a nearby street lamp painted the sidewalk a warm yellow, a stark contrast to the temperature outside. She saw him shiver.

"You're cold. You should go inside."

"Only if you come with me."

"I don't think so."

"Then I'll stay out here all night."

"You're blackmailing me? Classy." She said sarcastically.

"Can I kiss you again?" he wanted to make sure she wouldn't stop him this time.

"House," she warned. The street lamp flickered, then plunged the entire row of cars into darkness. Cuddy looked up to see the source. She didn't see him come towards her, only felt his hands at her waist. "House." She spoke his name again only this time he could hear the desire she was trying to mask. She could barely see the smile that crossed his face but she could see it. He really could be seductive when he wanted to be. He made no move to kiss her again but she could feel his hands making the skin on her hips hotter. She wasn't sure but she thought she could feel his hands moving ever so slightly, caressing her.

"Why do you want this so badly?" She whispered. "It's just sex."

"Maybe it isn't." She didn't care if he was manipulating her in that moment. She tentatively wrapped her arms around his neck and he closed the distance between them. She knew he was waiting for her to kiss him, to make the first move. She wasn't sure of herself but she kissed him anyway.

At first it was a slow, patient kiss. Her tongue slipped out of her mouth again, licking at his lips, baiting him. He deepened the kiss without a second thought; his tongue left his mouth to stroke hers with fervor. His hands tightened around her hips, bringing her closer to him, so she could feel the stirring in his groin. Her arms tightened around his neck, pulling him even closer, if that were possible.

They were hungry for each other. She was aware of both the feeling of his tongue on hers but also of the increasing pressure building up between his legs. It was difficult to ignore and for a second, she considered leaving him again. But his grip on her tightened, pressing her against his erection and an unintentional sigh escaped his lips and she felt his hot breath on her mouth. She made up her mind to stay just a little longer.

The thought of his biological reaction to her increased the experience for her and she began to feel that familiar feeling inside her. She felt so warm between her legs; she thought he might feel it emanating from her. His hands slid up her sides and stopped just under her armpits, at her bust line. One hand slid around and found her left breast, the other found its way to her back, giving him leverage to keep her in place, should she decide to pull away; he wasn't sure he trusted her just yet.

His hand stretched out over her breast and he resisted the urge to tighten his grip, as he might usually have done. Instead, his thumb found its way to the tip of her breast and, even through her bra, he could feel the increasing firmness of her nipple. He scratched his thumb over it, sending a shock through her that let out a moan through her lips. He felt even more invigorated at the sound of it and took a step to pin her against the car. He did so, perhaps, with too much fervor, as she hit the hood with a thud and let out a small whimper. But apologizing would mean having to break the kiss so he didn't bother. She mounted the hood willingly, her knees resting at his sides as he stepped closer between her legs.

Her arms unraveled from around his neck and her hands cupped his shoulders then slid up the sides of his neck to find his face. She rubbed her thumb over his rough jaw, hearing the scratching sound the friction made. She turned one hand around, so that the back of her fingers caressed the stubble on his cheek.

His hands slid down to find her ass, he pulled her middle towards him more lifting her off of the car for a second then giving a little slack so she came down on top of it rather roughly again. She didn't normally like it when men were rough with her but somehow, with him, it seemed to excite her more as she'd let out a quick exasperated sigh of pleasure. Upon hearing it, she knew it'd affected him because she could feel his dick grow just a bit more. His hands tightened on her ass and she moaned as there was absolutely no distance between them anymore.

He couldn't take it anymore; if he became any more aroused he thought he might hurt himself. He moved his hands to her thighs, pushing her dress up until he could feel the silk of her thin, thong panties on his fingers. He had to physically restrain himself from tearing them off of her. He wrapped his fingers around them to pull them down and that's when it registered in her. She couldn't let this go any further. Her mouth left his, leaving him cold.

"House," she began, trying to catch her breath. "We're about to make a very stupid mistake."

"I'd say the mistake is made." She tried to move from under him but he wasn't budging.

"It's been fun, but I need to go" she used the verb '_need_' because she knew she had to go, urgently, before things go even more out of hand. She gave him a condescending pat on the shoulder before trying to free herself again.

"That won't work," he only tightened his grip around her. Even in the poorly lit are they were in, she could see the intensity in his face. She felt herself beginning to melt under his gaze.

"House, I'll scream." She deadpanned, sliding from her sitting position.

He smiled and nodded, "I know you will." Before she could banter back, he was lifting her back onto the car. He hoisted her so much that she landed roughly, way farther back on the hood than he intended. She propped herself up with her elbows before trying to move again but he just climbed on top of the hood, on top of her, ignoring the pain in his thigh. She tried to struggle.

"House!" She yelled, admittedly too loud. His instinct was to put his hand over her mouth and she continued to try and make noises from under it. Even he realized the implications of their current position.

"I'm a cripple. If you really want me off of you, you know how to do it."

"I don't want to hurt you!" She tried to argue, but he could barely understand it, muffled behind his hand.

"Bullshit. You want me." He slid his hand up her thigh, so achingly slow that it gave her ample opportunity to stop him; she didn't. His hand found the thin, triangular piece of fabric keeping him from his destination. It pleased him to find that it was completely soaked. She both loved and loathed the smile that crossed his face upon this discovery. She rolled her eyes at the visible boost in his ego.

"See?" He spoke, smugly. "The panties don't lie." His removed the hand from her mouth and before she could speak, she felt the warmth run through her when his fingers began moving between her things. She opened her mouth to protest but all that came out was a long, drawn out "oh" sound. It was music to his ears as he played her with ease, like his favorite jazz song on his piano.

His mouth crashed down on her neck and he sucked at her skin, the thought that she would have to walk around the hospital with a hickey all day, _his _hickey, excited him to no end. His fingers continued to work their magic as she threw her head back and let out deep, rhythmic sighs. When he felt he had wetted his fingers enough, he removed his hand, this time leaving her feeling cold and abandoned.

"House!" her head shot up. "Don't you dare," she warned him.

"You want me?" He smiled, devilishly.

"House!"

"I need an answer." He was still smiling but his tone was serious in spite of his face.

"You know I do!"

"Say it."

"I want you," she hated him in that moment. "You manipulative bastard!"

"And you love it." he said, just before letting his mouth collide with hers for the third time that night. They immediately felt that empty feeling lovers feel when they realize the kiss can no longer sate their desire. The stirring of heat and liquids draws the closer and the need to physically be inside of one another becomes so urgent that they're certain they've never been as thirsty or as hungry or as tired. They've never needed anything as much.

Her hands quickly found the crotch of his jeans and she unbuttoned and unzipped as fast as she could. House slid her coat off of her, to lessen the layers between them, he let the coat fall behind her. His hands then found the sides of her panties again, next to her hips and this time didn't restrain himself from ripping them off of her. She didn't respond to the violation, instead, her hand dove into his pants and once she found what she was looking for, her eyes widened in wonderment as she measured the length of it with her hand in several broad strokes. She let the excitement build in him for a second before his hand slammed down on the car next to her, no longer able to take wait.

"Now." He pleaded with her and she giggled. She liked having the power in her hands for a change. She guided him into her and felt a small wave of gratification come crashing down on her immediately.

Once inside of her, he resumed control, his hand on the small of her back, he pulled himself further into her with each rhythmic motion. He rocked back and forth, enjoying the vague sensation that she was actually melting in his hands. He could feel that she was surrendered completely to him, there is not a more vulnerable position that he knew of. He became even more excited with the thought of _who_ it was with him.

He watched the pleasure he brought her as her brow furrowed and her mouth opened. She tried to stop the sounds from escaping from her mouth but occasionally a groan slipped out and it sent a feeling of pleasure darting through him upon hearing it. Her eyes were shut tight as he rode her and she let her hips move in rhythm with him. He wanted to see her and more than that, he wanted her to see him.

"Open your eyes" he managed to say coherently. She shook her head. She was almost afraid to see him watching her; she felt the heat of his stare even when her eyes were closed.

"Cuddy" he practically begged her. "Look at me."

Her eyes opened curiously and immediately her gaze locked on to his, she was unable to see anything else. The sight of her watching him, biting on her lower lip coupled with the intoxicating scent of her hair stirred something in him that pushed him to the edge. He moved faster and managed to venture deeper inside of her and she scooted even closer, opening her legs even wider than she thought possible and he moved even faster still. She let out a gasp, never interrupting their gaze. Both her hands were rested just behind her, at her sides and her legs were firmly wrapped around him. She let one hand reach up and grab the back of his head. And they rocked back and forth like this for several minutes, letting the pressure build up inside of them, then slowing down again. They did this until neither of them could take it any longer.

They both knew when it was time and let go of control. Her hand tightened its grip on the back of his neck while the other found its way to his shirt, grabbing a handful of it and pulling at it, brining him closer to her.

"House," she gasped. The sound of his name being uttered from her lips that way made the feeling even more intense. The streetlamp flickered back on, exposing them to each other completely. As the heat built inside of her she couldn't control her own voice as she began to make "ah" sounds and "oh" sounds, some long and drawn out, others short and louder. He could see her bite down on her lip harder, struggling to keep from screaming (not wanting to wake the neighborhood) so he let one hand go to her mouth and, once again, cupped it to let her scream as loud as she needed to. They came together in several quick explosions and she could feel his warm release rush into her. Her head fell to his chest when it was over and he let it rest there. His hands went to her cheeks, which were flush with cold, and he caressed the warmth back into them then ran his fingers through her hair. He could feel her shaking and he wasn't sure if it was just from the temperature.

"Wow." She finally said, into his shirt. He chuckled in response, running his hand through her hair. "Is it always like that for you?" She asked.

"Depends how much I pay." He said casually, as if they hadn't just had sex on the hood of her car. He couldn't see her roll her eyes but knew her well enough to assume. "No." He finally answered honestly. "Never like that." She looked up at him and her eyes fell on his, staring for a few seconds, admiring his sincerity. She smiled. God, he loved that smile. He kissed her forehead and caressed the sides of her arms, which must have been freezing by now. She wasn't sure of what to make of that atypical move, so she chose to ignore it.

"I should go." She finally said, making a move to separate from him. She slipped her arms back through the sleeves of her coat.

"You should stay," he corrected.

"I can't." She could. But she didn't want to give him an opportunity to screw this memory up for her. She was going to need it later. Also, she was beginning to have a little post coitus panic. "Goodnight, House."

"So you just use me for sex and then leave?" He feigned being hurt. She laughed tiredly before sliding off the car. Her legs immediately buckled and he quickly caught her before she could fall. He laughed at the thought of her being too thoroughly fucked to walk. He liked that idea.

"Stay." His face was serious, his eyes were icy. "Come on. It's late." It was only eleven but he would have said anything to get her to stay.

"I have paperwork." She wasn't really lying; there was always paperwork to be done.

"You're the boss. Give your self a reprieve. " He stepped closer, reaching his hands up and rested them on her elbows. She considered what staying would lead to; they fight again, they have sex again.

"I'm tired" she wasn't lying about that either.

"All the more reason to come inside." He wasn't sure what he wanted but he knew he didn't want her to go. He could see her debating in her head and decided to help her out with her dilemma and make the decision a little easier. He bent down and kissed her softly on the lips. No tongue, nothing invasive, just his lips on hers. He was surprising even himself tonight. When he pulled back, she had made up her mind.

"Okay," she nodded. "But I'm too tired for sex." She was making her stay conditional, trying to ascertain what he really wanted from her.

"I'll wait until after you fall asleep," he joked. She laughed lazily in response. She watched as he picked her torn panties off the ground, that had fallen at some point, and put them in his pocket.

"Trophy?" She asked with a smile. His only response was to return her smile. She loved it when he smiled, especially out of what seemed like joy. He rested his hand on her back and walked with her inside, where they were both relieved to feel the warmth on their skin.

xxxx

TBC


	4. Avantages

Disclaimer: I profit in no way from this; the characters belong to Fox. I simply use them in an attempt to Entertain the Huddy masses.

A/N: Again, this is not AU, it just takes place a little ways in the future. House and Wilson are fine now, for whatever reason. This chapter is short but I guarantee the next one will more than make up for it. Thanks again to those who reviewed and to my greatest friend, Pippa.

Enjoy.

xxxx

House sat in his office, thinking about all the fun he could have, discussing his triumph over Cuddy with Wilson. Wilson wouldn't believe it at first, but House had proof. Exhibit A: her torn pair of lacy, black, panties. He chuckled as he imagined the look on Wilson's face when he would hold them up like a flag and perhaps toss them in his direction, if he was feeling particularly playful.

But when Wilson came by to visit later in the morning, House didn't do any of that. Wilson tried to refer a patient to House but House solved the case quicker than he could hand him the file. They had a short discussion about how many illnesses (or perceived illnesses as the case was) could be traced back to some resident in radiology screwing up an X-ray. Then Wilson had an appointment with a patient and had to go. House wasn't sure why he hadn't reveled in his conquest, but he didn't dwell on it.

He thought back on the previous night, when Cuddy had followed him into his apartment. His leg had begun to ache from their activities and House threw back a few more Vicodin, disregarding how many he'd already taken, and had fallen asleep on the couch prematurely as a result. When he woke up, she was gone. When he finally came to work, his team was in the ER and Cuddy was "in a meeting". He'd gone to his office and sat down at his desk and has been there two hours since. He replayed the night before in his head over and over. Looking back, he wasn't sure he believed it actually happened. He closed his eyes so he could see it again: the two of them on her car in the dark. He devilishly reveled in the fact that he didn't have to make up fantasy scenarios in which Cuddy was the star; last night actaully happened. But when his mind wandered back to the thought of her leaving him in the morning, possibly regretting the night before, he became disappointed and a grimace infected his face. But then he put his hand in his pocket, feeling the lacy fabric and smiled again.

"Who is she?" he heard a man's voice and looked up to find Taub standing in front of his desk.

"What?" House hadn't heard what he'd said, he was too lost in his thoughts about Cuddy and was frankly annoyed to be pulled out of them.

"I know that smile, you were thinking about a woman. Who is she?" Taub _did_ know that smile, much to his dismay. But House wasn't even in the mood for a witty retort.

"What do you want? You're supposed to be in the ER," House dismissed.

"So are you. A tanker truck flipped on the freeway, the ER's jammed. I'm surprised Cuddy hasn't hunted you down yet."

"Is Cuddy in the ER?"

"She was, just a few minutes ago."

"Well, I better get down there! Those crash victims aren't going to bandage themselves!" House sprung to his feet, grabbing his cane and marching past Taub, who looked sufficiently confused and surprised.

The night before, Cuddy had put on one of House's t-shirts and slipped into his bed alone, after he'd fallen asleep on the couch. She buried her head in his pillow, which had such a concentrated smell of him, she had fallen into sleep with a faint smile on her lips. She woke up the next morning, the room painted in the revealing sunlight, which assaulted her eyes unforgiving as she remembered the circumstances that brought her there. Upon remembering the events of the night before, she had been horrified at the memory. She thought about how stupid it was to have sex in public, where someone could have seen them. She thought about how stupid it was to have sex with House, when she knew he would never let it go. She thought about the precautions she'd have to take just to make sure he didn't shout their secret at her across the lobby or the clinic. She'd have to give him everything he wanted just to keep him quiet. She wasn't sure if House was awake yet, but she hoped he wasn't as she slipped her dress back on and quietly crept into his living room.

He was laying there, still asleep on the couch, breathing heavily. She was careful not to wake him as she passed. She quietly lifted her coat off of the back of the couch and then paused to look at him. He had shifted in the night and was now sprawled out and lying on the length of the couch, with his mouth slightly open, letting a light snore escape. She tried to imagine what it would have been like to sleep next to him. After a moment, she pushed the thought as far away from her consciousness as she could; she didn't need such things plaguing her when the thing she needed most was to forget. Like an object in rest, with so much action potential, House looked harmless sleeping on his couch, but she knew what he was capable of. He was going to be a severe pain in her ass for a long time and she resisted the urge smack him in his sleep, as a preemptive strike to what she thought would be his inevitable incessant reminders of their very public romp.

Though, if she were being honest with herself, last night _was _pretty amazing. Possibly even worth the day she'd have to spend avoiding him again. Sitting there, watching him sleep, she was already going over the meetings she could reschedule and the important paperwork that wasn't to be done for months she might do just so she could fill her day. She turned to go, with only forty-five minutes left to go home and be at work on time, but stopped just shy of the door. She turned back, walked over to House again and stood for a second debating whether she should do it. She did it anyway, bending over and kissing him softly on his cheek, for what she thought might be the last kiss she'd ever give him.

Now, at work, Cuddy could feel the toll the night before has taken on her body; she ached between her legs and her ass and tailbone where she'd been pressed against the hood. She was very carfeul, however, to appear as flawless as ever. She found peace, however, in the current chaotic state of the Emergency Room. She was suturing and bandaging the wounds of a very quiet patient and felt relief in knowing that this would be the last place House would come looking for her. She was sure he'd rather avoid work than confront her about last night, at least in the morning. Though, despite the solace she found in that thought, she felt a small panic in her heart as her conscience constantly reminded her that she couldn't avoid him forever. Her mind went back to last night, the feeling of his hands on her thighs, him ripping her panties off her, the feeling of him inside of her, the way he looked into her eyes. Cuddy was distracted from the task at hand.

"Ah!" The woman whose wound she'd been treating jerked.

"I'm sorry." Cuddy needed to stay focused and get House out of her head.

"Where's House?" Hadley asked from behind her. Cuddy's heart skipped a beat just upon hearing his name.

"Don't know." Cuddy stated as nonchalantly as possible.

"Shouldn't he be here?"

"If you think you can get him down here, be my guest. If not, get back to work." Hadley blended back in to the hustle and bustle, not up for the task. Cuddy hadn't even looked for him or sent for him. In fact, she was sure he wasn't even hiding, as he usually was when the ER required extra doctors.

"Take these, you'll be fine." Cuddy handed the patient two pills. "You can take the sutures out yourself in seven to ten days with a pair of tweezers or come back to the ER. You'll also want to replace that bandage every week or when it starts bleeding through." Cuddy picked up her chart and jotted a few notes down and walked to the next woman who was sitting on the edge of a bed.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Cuddy. Where are you hurt?" Cuddy asked the woman as she picked up the chart.

"Oh, he already did me." The woman stated, motioning to Kutner.

"That's what she said." House's voice. Cuddy cringed when she heard it, not even turning around to look at him. She just turned to the next patient. "Seriously. She said that," House assured the woman on the edge of the bed before following Cuddy.

"Where are you hurt?" Cuddy asked.

"He's gripping his neck, he's got whiplash. Put some heat on it, give him an analgesic, and a cervical collar." House interjected. The young man seemed satisfied with House's diagnosis.

"I'm not a resident, House." Cuddy shot him an annoyed glance. House wasn't surprised to find her in this mood but was disappointed nonetheless. "No pain anywhere else?" Cuddy asked, turning back to the patient.

"No, he's right. Just the whiplash." The young man said, his hand still rested on his neck.

"Thought you were in a meeting." House said, over he shoulder.

"I excused myself to help down here. Now find a chart and get to work." While she spoke her head was turned in his direction but she never actually looked him in the eyes. She turned back to the patient and continued. "We're going to need to take an x-ray and possibly run some additional tests to make sure there isn't more serious spinal or nerve injury." Cuddy started writing in the man's chart.

"He's fine, his breathing is normal so his larynx is fine. No paresthesias-" he stopped for a moment and turned to the man. "Your skin's not burning is it?" after the man answered 'no', he continued. "No paresthesias, so he doesn't need a CT." House peeked over Cuddy's shoulder to see the man's chart. "And he doesn't have insurance." House looked back to the man. "You don't really want to pay two-hundred dollars for an x-ray you don't need do you?" The man shook his head. "See? He can shake his head, he's fine." Cuddy didn't have time to try and convince the man, the ER was far too busy so she ordered a nearby nurse to retrieve a neck brace for the patient and tried to move to see someone else. She was ignoring the fact that she was pissed at House for interfering with her patient questionnaire and talking patients out of tests they might need. She was more concerned with getting away from House before he tried to talk to her about-

"You left early this morning." House was quiet enough to where no one heard him but loud enough to concern Cuddy whose expression just shot into a look of severe irritation.

"House. Not now." She was very firm and very close to him, so no one could hear them

"Were you planning on just pretending we didn't have sex last night?" She probably was, if he would have let her.

"House," she warned.

"Because, I gotta say, that hurts."

"House, I'm not talking to you about this right now."

"I thought I was a good lay."

"This is exactly why I regret it. I'll let you out of ER duty if you leave me alone." The word 'regret' took House by surprise. She saw his expression change when she said it. He realized, though, that he should have expected as much.

"You _regret_ it? You were perfectly in your right mind. You weren't drunk. _I _was a little drunk. But you climbed on top of that car completely-"

"House!" She shouted in a whispery voice. She grabbed a handful of his shirt and walked him to the only remotely vacant square foot of the ER and she spoke very quietly. "I will not talk to you about this _here_."

"Then let's go somewhere else."

"No, I need to be here. And if you're going to be here you need to find a chart and-" With that, House walked out of the ER. Cuddy was relieved to see him go but in spite of this, she felt a small tinge of anguish that she wrote off as stress.

Several hours later, after lunch, House was sitting in his office, looking at workplace-inappropriate things on the Internet when his pager sounded off. He was being paged for an emergency consult in exam room 1. He thought about ignoring it but he was beginning to get bored and his soap didn't come on for another half-hour. Also, it would be nice to take a case so he could stop thinking about Cuddy. No woman has ever occupied his mind like this before. At least not in a few years.

When he finally made his way to the clinic a nurse called out to him "Dr. Cuddy is waiting for a consult in exam 1." House was surprised at this but went to the door with new excitement.

"Better get in there then, huh?" He opens the door and finds her leaning against the exam table.

"Afternoon delight?" he asked as he limped into the room, shutting the door behind him.

"I thought it might be advantageous to talk this out because I can't spend the rest of my life avoiding you." She lifted off of the table.

"Okay." House took a few more steps towards her and propped his hand against the table. She took a deep breath before continuing.

"What happened last night can't happen again."

"But mom!" House interjected. "I didn't even get to see you naked!"

"And you won't," she was annoyed at the conversation already but he could tell that she was masking something else.

"I don't see why not. We both had fun last night."

"House. I was hoping we could just forget-"

"Oh, I will never forget last night."

"You're going to do what you're going to do. I just thought that maybe you could do me a tiny favor and not shout our business in the ER or clinic or lobby or- anywhere in this hospital."

"I'm sure we can _come_ to some kind of agreement." He emphasized his childish innuendo.

"No. I'm not letting you blackmail me into signing off on any of your crazy procedures."

"You're already a pushover, I hardly need leverage."

"Then what is it that you want?"

"I want to see you naked the next time we have sex."

"There isn't going to be a next time."

"Fine. I'll just tell everyone what a vixen you are. Having sex in public like that."

"Like they'd believe you. They'll just think you're full of shit as usual."

"Wanna make a bet? 'Cause I've got my wallet right here." He put his hand in his pocket to retrieve it and she opened her mouth to tell him not to bother but before she could speak "Oh, what's this?" He asks as he pulls the mangled, black fabric out of his pocket and waved it around in the air. She lunged at him to snatch it out of his hands but he held it too high for her to reach. "Ah, ah. My trophy, remember?"

"That could be anyone's!" She yells after fruitlessly jumping at it.

"Maybe. If it weren't for the fact that you write 'property of Lisa Cuddy: Dean of Medicine' on duct tape and stick it in all your underwear," he said pseudo-smugly.

"No I don't." She said with exasperation.

"Well, you do now." He showed her where he'd written it and stuck it on the inside of her panties. She laughed at how ridiculous he was behaving, knowing she couldn't have expected anything else.

"Damn. You've got me. What can I do now but submit? I'm practically your slave," she said, every word dripping with sarcasm.

"Exactly." He pocketed the underwear and took a few steps closer in her direction until her was standing over her, domineering. "Let's do it right here."

"This conversation is going no where," she sighed and walked out from under his gaze towards the door. "I've got to get back to work."

"Wait." His tone had shifted from playful to serious.

"What?" She stopped, turning her head back around, her expression looking worn on, what he considered to be, her flawless face.

"I'm not blackmailing you. Not giving you an ultimatum. Just making an offer. We're both attracted to each other, we both have needs."

"No way," she laughs "don't go there. You have hookers for that."

"I don't want them. I want you." He furrowed his brows, trying to paint his visage as serious as possible.

"Oh, You don't want to pay for it!"

"Does it matter? Tell me you didn't have a good time last night."

"Yes it was nice," she began coyly. "But that doesn't mean-"

"Nice? I fucked you on a car. I don't think 'nice' quite cuts it." Cuddy blushed at the reminder. She could not deny her attraction to him, abrasive as he was, but she felt a voice inside of her, imploring her not to fall into his inevitable tangled mess; it can only deal to heartbreak. And yet, there seemed to be a magnetism that drew her to him, simultaneously repelling everyone else (except those few naive ones that either didn't really know him or thought he'd change). Cuddy didn't want him to change and didn't believe he needed to be fixed. But she, having known him longer than anyone else, knew there was humanity in him that, somewhere along the way broke away from him. House was never the nice guy, or everybody's pal but he did have some fragment of humility that she tried to restore in him. She tried by forcing him to do clinic duty and dealing with patients but he fought her every step of the way and seldom rought anything from it. As her friend, it saddened her to him suffer and continuously be the arbitor of his own pain. She almost hated him for it and felt a misplaced responsibility for him that did nothing but stress her out in ways that was so hard to handle some days. In spite of all this though, she still wanted him. She was still attracted to him in a way that was hard deny. Especially now that he was actually asking her to sleep with him and not being facetious in the least.

"House. Regardless, it doesn't mean we need to do it again. It was fun. But now it's over."

"I don't want it to be over." He took a step towards her. "_You_ don't want it to be over."

"I want," she began but trailed off. She had intended to tell him that she wanted him to leave her alone, or something to that effect. But she couldn't. She opened her mouth to speak again but was interrupted when House lunged toward her, letting his cane fall. It made a loud clacking sound on the linoleum. When their mouths met, her hands shot up to greet his face, pulling him towards her, as if she'd been expecting this. His hands immediately roamed her body, finding their way to the sides of her breasts, then to her back, pulling her closer. Their tongues reunited like familiar friends, finding their unforgotten niche. House's right hand roamed down to her back to find her ass. He cupped it, giving it a small squeeze that made her moan in that way that he was becoming accustomed to.

He spun them around slowly so that his back was to the door now and he walked them to the exam table until her back pressed against it. Their tongues continued to collide hungrily and Cuddy pulled gently at the sides of his face, bringing him closer, wanting more of him, and he gladly gave it to her. His hands traveled to the sides of her breasts again, letting his thumb stretch out, he scraped his nails over the tips of each breast and she sighed into his mouth.

He put his hands on the exam table next to her hips, pinning her. She couldn't escape him if she wanted to. He felt her melt underneath him as she relaxed into him. Still keeping hands on the table he moved them tighter against her, offering her loosening body some support. She slid her hands from his face to his chest, grabbing onto the lapels of his blazer, taking fistfuls of the fabric as he continued to massage her tongue with his. He let one hand off the exam table to fall to her skirt, low enough to lift it up and slide his hand to her thigh. It was smooth when he ran his fingers across it, his rough skin juxtaposing her soft flesh. She took a sharp intake of breath when she felt his hand traveling upward, his fingers lightly tapping as he went, as if walking his fingers to the promise land.

He slid his fingers along the lace that made a pathetic attempt to keep him out. He slowly lifted the fabric with his pointer finger, he felt her tear her mouth from his with a gasp.

"No." She said, catching her breath. "Not here."

"Well, short of the janitor's closet, there's not really so much privacy in-"

"Not in the hospital." She let his disappointment sink in before continuing. "That's rule number one." The corners of his lips curled into a smile as he realized what she was agreeing to.

xxxx


	5. Pensées

Disclaimer: House, M.D. belongs to the suits over at fox and the lovely David Shore.

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed, it's really nice to have feedback. Thanks again, Pip. I love you.

Enjoy this one. It's a bit long!

xxxx

House huffed through his nostrils heavily as his eyes cracked open and he shifted in bed. He closed his eyes again, tightly, in the face of the early morning sunlight. His shoulder felt cold, vacant, like something was missing. Her head usually lay there in the morning. He never particularly liked post-coital cuddling and she never pegged him as a cuddler so when it came time for sleep she'd keep her distance. But when he woke in the morning, her head would be on his shoulder and he never protested, instead, he buried his face in hair, breathing in her smell as he slept. She'd pretend it was an accident, and that it happened in her sleep and he'd let her; he liked waking to the smell of her hair. But sometimes he'd wake to find her still across the bed, tangled in his sheets, her hair sprawled across her face. He'd scoot closer to her, brush her hair from her face, kiss her neck and, from behind her, put his arm around her, tucking her into him and go back to sleep. She'd be gone later, as she'd always wake up before him and head home to get dressed before she had to be at work. On the weekends, he'd catch her in his living room, trying to sneak out and he'd talk her into coming back to bed with him. After they'd sufficiently fooled around in his bed for a while, perhaps falling back asleep for a few hours, she'd leave him again, most likely to return again later in the evening.

But this Saturday morning, upon waking and finding her not lying on his shoulder or tangled in his sheets, he knew he wouldn't catch her leaving. She hadn't been there at all. She was at a conference in California and had been for four days and would be for another two. He smiled when he remembered the last night they'd spent together in his bed before she left.

"I'm going to miss you." He'd said not looking her in the eyes, perhaps trying to butter her up.

"You're going to miss having sex with me," she had corrected with a laugh.

"Huh?" he said, looking up "Oh, I was talking to the girls," he said, looking back down at her chest, that was covered in his sheet. She shoved him playfully and he'd lunged on top of her (always ignoring the pain in his leg when he did such things). They were already undressed from having had sex only twenty minutes before so he merely adjusted the covers so there was no more fabric between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him in to kiss her. He propped himself up with his left elbow, hovering above as he kissed her, his right hand rested next to her hips, searching for a home elsewhere and quickly finding it between her legs. He felt her hot breath collide with his as she sighed into his mouth.

His fingers continued to dart around under the covers and, breaking the kiss, her head fell back in satisfaction and her mouth opened wider letting a groan escape. He dipped his head into her neck, laying light kisses on her clavicle as he simultaneously concentrated on what his hand was doing, knowing, expertly, exactly what notes to play.

Her hand gripped the back of his neck gently and she ran her fingers through the hair at the base of his head. His mouth traveled even further below her collarbone and found her breasts, paying careful attention to both as he sucked attentively on each nipple.

After a few minutes, she began to feel the familiar tremors and her hand shot down to the sheets beside her, grabbing a handful of them and clenching tight. House planted several kisses down her stomach, to her pelvis, until he reached the point where he could replace his fingers with his mouth and finish what he'd started. As her left hand gripped the sheets, her right hand stayed on the back of his head as he continued to paint her with his tongue.

"Oh," slipped from her mouth a couple times. "House." She said his name and repeated it again in rhythm with him. He wrapped his arms around her thighs, dragging her closer to him as she started to shiver. She shouted his name again which never grew tired to him; he loved his name being uttered from her lips in pleasure. His arm wrapped around the sides of her hips and back up over her thighs, he let one hand drift distractedly to her stomach and his fingers sprawled out and rested there.

Thunder rolled over the hills inside of her as her orgasm quaked through her and she gripped the sheets tighter and her other hand lay across his hair. She uttered his name one more time accompanied by an 'oh my god' before the storm had gone. When it was over, she breathed heavily with her eyes shut and felt him resurfacing as the kisses he laid down on her ascended up her stomach, back to her breasts until her planted one on her smile and she opened her eyes.

"That should get you through the week," he'd said and she laughed before bringing his face down to kiss her again.

House tore himself out of his memories and got out of bed. It has only been four weeks since their conversation in the clinic where they made a deal to continue sleeping together, both of them needing the sexual outlet. Her first stipulation was that they were not to have sex in the hospital. The second was that House was never to bring it up in or around the hospital. The third and final rule was that that their professional and sexual lives must remain completely independent of one another. House agreed to that quickly. The last thing he needed was her holding sex over his head to get him to do his clinic duty. So far, neither of them has broken their agreement. But it certainly hadn't been easy from the start.

The first week they spent together was rough and he knew it was his fault. The day after their conversation in the clinic, House caught a case from the ER; one of the crash victims was experiencing numbness in her fingertips and pain in her thigh and calf muscles. House was intrigued, as the woman had been to nearly 20 other doctors previously and was now becoming too pained to walk. Over the course of the five days it took House and his team to solve the case, House spent a lot of time at the hospital, as usual. When it came time for him to go home, he invited Cuddy back to his apartment where they would have sex and he would subsequently ignore her, getting out of bed to continue his differential diagnosis. When she attempted to help him, he would shoot her down with the same tired line he always gave her about her not having been a real doctor in years. That's when she would leave, practically slamming the door on her way out.

He could see that she was beginning to regret their agreement but he didn't let up and appeared not to care. But she stuck by him anyway. The sex was still great, which, he figured, was the only reason she kept coming back. But he hadn't paid as much attention to her in bed as he wanted too. Solving his puzzle was all he knew how to do anymore. He couldn't help but wonder if that was why he was incapable of a real relationship, but he always pushed that thought and any similar thoughts away to the farthest reaches of his brain and seldom brought them back. After the case was solved, however, things got substantially better.

"Pig brains," he had said excitedly, storming into her office.

"What?" she'd asked him, looking up from her paperwork confused.

"She's got Progressive Inflammatory Neuropathy from inhaling pig brain particles at the pork processor where she worked."

"How did you figure that?" she asked, impressed.

"Well, a couple Esse's came to the ER with similar symptoms so that narrowed the search down to migrant work." Cuddy shot him an annoyed glance at his racist comment. "They all had jobs using air compression to blast the brains out of pig skulls. Particles of the brain went into the air, they inhaled them and voila. PIT."

"And that caused all of those symptoms? She had at least a dozen-"

"Once in the body, the foreign pig brain matter prompted the immune system to produce antibodies to attack it. The foreign matter also triggered an attack on the body's nerve tissue, killing some of the nerves and causing the pain and numbness." as he spoke, he could practically imagine the biology at work, like a microscopic camera in her blood stream.

"Wow." He really was impressive. "So, what do you need from me? Some radical cure you want to try?"

"We've already started her on some immunotherapy treatments and a couple medication cocktails. It won't fix everything but it should help."

"So you want me to call the CDC? Have them look into the pork processor? That can't be the only one who uses air compression. Their should be an investigation."

"Kutner's already on it."

"So…" her expression mirrored her flummoxed sentiment. "Why are you here?" She knew he wasn't the type to come looking for a 'good job!'.

"Thought you might want to celebrate." Immediately Cuddy's face changed to one of protest.

"House, not in the hospital, remember?"

"I can wait. How about tonight?" He knew he deserved to be shot down and he saw it coming from a mile away.

"House, I've got a lot of work to do. There's a board meeting tomorrow and-"

"No, I've been an ass hole." She raised her eyebrows in surprise. She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant but he continued before she spoke. "I mean more than usual. And you don't deserve that. It's just," he paused, trying to find the words. She almost smiled, seeing how uncomfortable it was for him to say this. "I haven't had to split my attention between work and anything else in a long time." The smile finally broke from its hiding place and crept onto her face as she slowly nodded in understanding. He was annoyed at how condescending she looked. "I'm not apologizing. I'm just saying, it won't happen again."

"Sounded like an apology to me," she said, still smiling and before he could say anything witty and insulting in response, she stood from her chair, walking around to the front of her desk to stand near him. "and of course it will happen again. Your puzzle will always take precedent over everything else." He furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what she meant.

"So, what are you suggesting?" He shifted more of his weight to his cane to brace himself for what she was about to say.

"I'm suggesting that, while you're working on a case, we take a break from" she paused not knowing exactly what to call it. "our arrangement," she finished. He nodded, seemingly grateful for not losing her completely. However, despite the little attention he paid to her while he was working on the case, he still enjoyed the release she provided. It helped him to clear his head. But it seemed only fair that she not have to put up with him when he was like that. He respected her right to not be merely an empty pleasure vessel for him. After all, he could have his hookers if he wanted that. But he chose her instead and he didn't want to lose her. She was the best lay he'd had in a long time. If not ever.

"Okay." They both stood there for a second before Cuddy turned around, taking a file off her desk and walking it to the filing cabinet across the room. "So, you've got a lot of work to do?" He asked with pseudo timidity. She turned around with a seductive smile, pushing the filing drawer closed.

"I think maybe I can make a little time." He smiled at her, wanting to walk across the room, grab her and kiss her but he didn't want to risk pissing her off just after she'd agreed to have sex with him later in the evening. "Assuming I can get some work done now."

"Don't let me stand in your way," House gave her a smile before limping out of her office. That night had been the first of an amazing two week; he was very attentive and, much to her surprise, affectionate.

House, reverting back to his pre-Cuddy, lonely Saturday mornings, moved into his bathroom and stripped down, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. He went used the toilet before turning the shower on, adjusting the temperature and stepping inside. House stood in his shower, letting the hot water run down his body. He liked the water much hotter than she did. He'd even adjusted it just for her when she joined him, much to his chagrin.

"House! Are you trying to get second degree burns?" She'd said upon entering the shower in progress.

"I like it hot," he'd said smiling, raising his eyebrow.

"You like your skin to boil off."

"This is only a little over 100 degrees. It would have to be another 100 to even be close to boiling."

"It's too hot!"

"You're a baby. "

"And do you want to have sex with this baby? It's _too_ hot."

"Fine." He reached out to adjust the temperature but only turned the knob a fraction of a degree.

"What is that going to do?" She asked before raising her hand to adjust it further.

"Hey, I don't need a cold shower, I've got you." House swatted her hand away.

"You're the one who begged me to come in here and then you-"

"You'll get used to it." Ignoring him, Cuddy went to adjust the shower again. He tried to gently nudge her away and step in front of the nozzle but she reached around him and attempted to anyway. He grabbed her arms, trying to force her away from it. Keeping his injury in mind, but also her eye on the prize, she shoved him lightly to the side, knowing he'd fall against the wall easily, wanting to avoid being maimed any further. "Hey! Cripple here!" He shouted at her.

"I know. I use that to my advantage," she said proudly.

"On average 1,300 people die in the shower each year. Keep that in mind next time you're roughhousing with a cripple in this death trap." She turned the nozzle, only a little, trying to keep him happy. "Compromise," he huffed "That has always been your style. Middle ground isn't the answer to everything."

"Not everyone can be like you. A self-serving man-child."

"Self-serving man-child is right, and I bet you can tell which part of me is of "man" proportions." He looked down at himself. She didn't flatter him by following his gaze. "Hint: it's also the self-serving part. In fact, I service myself in this very shower." She laughed at his twist on her words and stepped closer to him so there was no more space between them.

"So this is where it all happens, huh?" she said, looking around his surprisingly clean shower. He knew what she was thinking, that he thought about her in the shower. If that was what she was thinking, then she was right. He smiled thinking about a not-so-far-off time when the only way he could get her in his shower was to imagine her there.

"Yeah, part of my morning routine." He said, only half serious. Some days, he needed that release. Others, he was too filled with self-loathing to pleasure himself, but he wouldn't tell her that.

"Well, maybe your routine could stand to be altered just a little," she said, wrapping her hand around his impressive width. She slowly began to stroke as his mouth came down on hers, warm water running down both of them.

As House stood in his shower, alone, imagining their first shower together, his hand moved in unison with hers. His eyes were closed and he had his left arm stretched out, propping himself against the wall as his other hand jacked himself off. He even absentmindedly bit down on his lower lip, mimicking the way she would when she kissed him. He wanted to taste her again.

When he was finished and stepping out of his shower, he decided he was done thinking about Cuddy. He reconciled that he liked having her around but he didn't need her. He made his way to his living room, seeing his piano across the room and deciding he was in the mood for a song.

Hating all the classical things his parents made him play as a child, he devoted his adult life to playing, almost exclusively, jazz. He loved everything about it and like many Jazz performers, he rarely played a composition the same way twice, finding inspiration in however he was feeling, in whatever he needed to say but couldn't. When he thought on which song he'd like to play, one in particular came to mind. The night Cuddy had asked him to play her something. He'd been playing already when he heard her knocking on his door.

When he opened the door, he didn't say anything to greet her, just stepped aside to let her in.

"I heard you playing," she'd said.

"Yeah," he wasn't in a particularly good mood. Not for any one reason. But sometimes when his leg wasn't feeling well, he could get like that and Cuddy knew it. She didn't always know how to handle it, but she knew it well.

"Will you play for me?" she asked him, rather sweetly.

"No." He'd said simply. He sounded final on the matter but she knew he could be swayed.

"You play me one song, and I'll," she couldn't think of anything so she thought she'd just leave it to him. "-I'll do whatever you want." He stared at her for a moment before smiling; already thinking of the creative things he could make her do. His smile made her nervous, however she didn't show it. She slipped out of her coat, laying it over the back of his sofa and walking around it, to take a seat on it. House went to his piano, sitting down at his bench.

"Any requests?" She shook her head in response. He thought about what song she might like and was usually very good at reading things like that but for some reason he couldn't read her at the moment. The only song that came to mind was one of his mother's favorites. For his mother's fortieth birthday, House's father wanted him to learn yet another classical song to play at her party. Instead, House secretly learned to play Billy Strayhorn's Lush Life. His mother loved it but his father had made his life miserable for the next week, making him do chores without break until he thought he'd pass out. But he still remembered his mother's smile as he played, making the memory bittersweet for him. When House played it for his mother's birthday it was much more energetic and focused on the syncopation, with a very rhythmical and upbeat tempo. But now House played it slow and melancholy with an emphasis on the chromatic structure of the melody and chord changes.

House had begun reluctantly, not wanting to play for company in the first place but it never took long for him to fall into the music. Cuddy watched him, thinking about what must take place in his head. She was jealous of his ability to be so passionate. Music and Medicine seemed like all he cared about. It was like he went somewhere else. The music siphoned out of the piano like water out of a tap. It was smooth and soft and sped up at times, slowing down at others, each chord washing the room completely. His fingers bounced and glided around the keys effortlessly as the jazzy tune rocked her to her very core.

House's brow furrowed and his eyebrows raised, his signature face that told that he was lost in it. He didn't even notice her get up from the couch and sit on the bench next to him. His fingers continued to dance to the music they created. Cuddy, taken by both him and his music, sat with her head cocked to the side, faintly smiling at him as he continued to play.

When he was finished, the last chord struck the room then petered off into nothingness. He looked up at her and then feeling immediately vulnerable, he looked back down at his resting fingers.

"That was beautiful," she said admiringly, knowing he wouldn't have anything to say back. A simple 'thank you' would suffice, but he couldn't muster anything except an embarrassed, lopsided smile. He still wasn't looking at her, so she cupped the sides of his face with her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze before kissing him. He followed her lead quickly, on her thigh and waste. Careful not to seem too sentimental, House deepened the kiss, shifting his head from one side to another, his tongue exploring her mouth hungrily. She allowed this, even though she did not prefer it; she did, after all, promise him she'd do anything.

He brought them to their feet slowly, letting one hand use the piano as leverage, unintentionally striking a couple keys as they stood. They inadvertently moved the piano seat, scratching its legs against the wood of his floor, which he hated. He wasn't particularly anal about keeping anything proper but he just didn't like the way the piano sat uneven when there were scratches in the floor. But he ignored it.

After standing, she tried to push him a little, guide him to his bedroom, but instead, he just turned her and shoved her onto his piano keys. The keys thundered into the room when she landed and she tried to stand up but he just lifted her onto it further, the pang of the keys filling the room once more.

"House!" she objected, tearing her mouth away from his.

"You said you'd do anything." He let his mouth crash down again on hers before she could argue that it was uncomfortable or that it would be bad for his piano keys. It was, most certainly, both of those things but he figured they'd both get over that quickly enough. And anyway, he'd always wanted to have sex on a piano.

It didn't take long for him to lift up the hem of her dress, pull down her panties and find his way inside of her. She gripped the piano with one hand and the back of his neck with other while her legs were wrapped around his waist. With each rough motion they made, another chord was struck. Despite the randomness of the notes they played, House enjoyed the sound. Cuddy couldn't help but laugh at it. And how ridiculous it was to have sex on a piano when there was a perfectly good bed and couch within reasonable distance. Her laughing made him laugh and they came together, laughing, fucking, to the music they made. The kind of music only they could appreciate.

After reminiscing about that night, House began to play Lush Life again. But he couldn't make it through without being completely distracted by thoughts of her and he doubted if he'd ever be able to associate the song with anything but the sound of her ass pounding the keys as they rocked back and forth on his piano. He couldn't think of a better association.

House got up from his piano and went to his kitchen to fill his empty stomach. He opened his fridge, remembering he'd eaten the last of the pasta. She had cooked it for him one of the last days before she left. They were usually very careful to avoid doing activities together; it was like the unspoken rule. They wanted to avoid the "couple" behaviors. But the pasta happened by accident and neither of them had said or done anything to stop it.

"What is that?" She'd asked him after following him to his kitchen.

"Doritos." He said before stuffing another handful in his mouth.

"Is that your dinner?" She asked, a disgusted look on her face.

"Yup." He licked his fingers.

"That's gross." She snatches the bag out of his hand.

"I'm hungry!" He moved to get the bag from her but she held it out of reach.

"Don't you have any real food?"

"As opposed to the imaginary bag in your hands?" Cuddy opened his fridge, looking for anything that either hadn't expired or was remotely healthy. An open can of tuna crusted over, old slices of pizza poorly wrapped in tin foil.

"When was the last time you went shopping?" she asked, over her shoulder.

"Well, Meals on Wheels stopped coming by so-"

"This is disgusting!" she said, after spying some cheese, growing a generous froth of mold in the door of his refrigerator.

"Hey, will you get out of my kitchen, fridge nazi?"

"Please tell me you've got _something_ that isn't molding in this kitchen?"

"Yeah, my chips." House said, making another move to grab the bag from her hands. She eluded him easily; in strength, he's got her beat, but she was certainly quicker than him.

"Something remotely healthy."

"Nope, I'm proud to say."

"Why do you insist on living every aspect of your life like a teenage boy?"

"Why do you insist on living every aspect of your life like a-"

"Hooker? Slut? Hussy? Trollop?"

"Actually I was going to say 'a responsible adult.'"

"House, there must be something to make in this kitchen." She said, turning to his cabinet, opening it to find an assortment of boxes and packages, all with expired dates or in an otherwise unsuitable condition. House left the room as she rummaged through his cabinet, looking for something to cook. "Seriously, I don't see how you live like this," she called to him from the next room.

"Live like what? A bachelor who makes little to no effort to cook or clean? Yeah, who would have expected that from me?" he responded, not sure if she actually heard all of it. He plopped down on his couch, picked up a medical journal and thumbed through it.

House's apartment was kept reasonably clean, Cuddy admitted, but his standards of living were still far below her own. After rummaging through his cabinets for a couple minutes, she finally found something she could cook. From the back of his cabinet, she retrieved an unopened bag of dry pasta. She checked the date, seeing it was only a couple months old, she went to find a pot to cook it in. All of his pots and pans were covered in a thin layer of dust. Picking out the largest pot she could find, she took it to the sink to wash off the dust and grime that had accumulated on it. She then filled it with water and brought it to his stove. Turning the dial until the burner was done clicking and had a nice, small blaze going, she wondered how long it had been since his stove was last used; probably not since Wilson lived there with him for a few weeks.

She went back to his fridge to find something that she could make sauce out of. House was apparently someone who liked his vegetables, which surprised her.

"Why do you have so many tomatoes?" She asked him in the next room.

"I like tomatoes," he stated, as if this were obvious information.

"So you go to the store and buy nothing but tomatoes." She said it mostly to herself, not really wanting to get into that particular machination of his mind at the moment.

She grabbed several tomatoes and a cutting board and began removing the skin and cutting them up. Over the course of the twenty minutes it took for her to prepare the sauce to be cooked, she familiarized herself with his kitchen completely, by the end, knowing where every fork, spoon, and ladle lay. House, smelling her progress, poked his head in the kitchen curiously.

"I didn't know you could cook," he said sounding surprised.

"I'm sure even cave people could boil water," she said.

"Yeah, but I don't think they mushed their tomatoes into paste. Now that's the skill of a modern woman." Cuddy smiled.

"My mother taught me to cook," she said, annoyed at the memory. "She wanted me to _marry_ a handsome, Jewish doctor. Not become one."

"Well you are very handsome. Any woman would be lucky to have you." She laughed as he came up behind her, peering over her shoulder at her progress. It didn't look as disgusting as he had imagined.

"Not bad, huh?"

"Not terrible." She laughed at his attempt at a compliment and turned around to find his mouth already coming down on hers. She welcomed it, wrapping her arms around his neck. His arms fell to her hips. They stood in kitchen, making out for a bit before he moved to a different part of the counter, where he could knock everything off of it, signaling her to hop on it. She did, putting her hands on it as leverage, lifting herself up in a quick springing movement. Their mouths collided again and his hands went to the button on her pants, undoing it and then unzipping, sliding her pants down her legs and throwing them to the floor. She pulled off the v-neck t-shirt she was wearing, tossing it on top of the pants.

She sat before him in a lacy, crimson red, bra and matching underwear. He stood back, eyeing her and smiling in appreciation. Her breasts pooled at the top of the bra. The lace crissed and crossed over her fair skin in an intricate pattern, gripping her skin tightly but not too tight. His icy blue stare took stock of every asset. She leaned back on the counter, her arms behind her at her sides, enjoying the sight of him taking her in, focusing on her. She saw him shift in his pants and held back a girlish giggle.

"Jesus," he finally uttered. She chuckled and reached forward and grabbed a handful of his t-shirt, pulling him back to her. His mouth immediately found her neck, sucking on it gently; making it's way down to the tops of her breasts. Her skin was soft and her scent was intoxicating. Her head fell back as he licked and kissed to his satisfaction. Her legs wrapped around, her toes pointed in anticipation of his every move. She restrained herself from making any moves, letting herself be his plaything. She liked feeling being completely surrendered to him. It was unexpectedly liberating to feel like she belonged to him.

Tsssssss- the sound of the water boiling over, and sizzling in the fire. Signaling the pasta needed to be checked on.

"House," she tried to get his attention, but he was busy. "House I have to," her voice trailed off as she felt his hand travel between her legs. His mouth continued to dote on her breasts and his free hand slid up the skin of her back to find the clasp of her bra. "House," she tried again, her legs slowly rubbing his lower back as they were wrapped around him. "Please." He liked hearing her beg. Not necessarily to be let free from his grasp but it didn't matter at the moment.

The water boiled over again and Cuddy didn't want to risk overcooking the only pasta he had. She pushed him off of her, sliding off the counter, planting a quick kiss on his jaw before going to stir the pots. House, trying not to go crazy waiting, balled his fists until the skin on his knuckles turned white. He looked over at her, bending over to find a strainer in his cabinet with all his pots and pans, which only made it more difficult, as his pants became even tighter around his waste. Cuddy was annoyed at the disarray of his cabinet, so she stood there for a second, trying to stack the pots and pans in some semi-organized order. As she stood bent over, she could feel his eyes on her and she smiled to herself, finally spying the strainer she needed she reached out to grab it. She felt the pressure of his hands come down on hips, and different pressure from directly behind her.

"House," she said his name with a chuckle. "Will you let me finish this?" She stood up, turning to look at his impatient glare. "Then we can do whatever you like." She walked around him, back to the stove before continuing. "Except the piano. My ass still hurts from that." He laughed at the memory.

"There're still plenty of surfaces we haven't christened yet." He came up behind her again, pressing harder. She was hard to resist in the little clothes she was wearing; he was drawn to her. He dipped his head down to kiss her neck and she let him, even though it was distracting her from her sauce. Her right arm came up and wrapped around the back of his neck. They stood like that for a minute before she asked him for his help.

"Here." She handed him the strainer. "Take that to the sink and then strain this," she said, moving out of his grasp.

"I don't cook." He set the strainer on the counter next to him.

"The sooner you do it, the sooner we can do whatever it is that you're so eager to do." He begrudgingly put the strainer in the sink and took the pot over to strain it as she finished up with the tomato sauce, adding what little spices he had an stirring the pot. Ten minutes later, they were on his couch, eating, talking and laughing, ignoring how comfortable it felt. After dinner, he took her to his bed and got everything he wanted.

House continued to rummage through his kitchen, looking for something to eat before ultimately settling on the half empty bag of chips he hadn't touched since that night. He settled on the couch, turning on his TV and flipped through the channels. He found nothing that seemed to stimulate his attention; his mind had much more entertaining thoughts to be played with. But frankly, he was annoyed with the way she plagued his very thought and how there wasn't a single room he could go into without being reminded of some late night tryst.

Deciding to take the initiative to think of something or someone else, he picked up his phone and dialed Wilson.

"Hey," Wilson answered distractedly. Most likely in his office doing paperwork.

"Are you in your office?"

"Yeah,"

"It's Saturday."

"I have patients. I'm filling out some drug trial paperwork. What do you need?"

"I need something to take my mind off of," he stalled, not knowing how to finish the sentence. He still hadn't told him about Cuddy. She asked him not to and normally he would tell him anyway, but he didn't. He was sure it wasn't _just_ because she asked him not to though. "-things," he finished esoterically.

"Are you going to elaborate or are we playing twenty questions?"

"I'm good as is. You busy? Let's get something to eat."

"As I've just said, I have work."

"It's Saturday, work can wait."

"I'm almost done here. _You_ can wait."

"Well hurry up," House said before hanging up the phone and lying back on his sofa. It seemed like hours before Wilson finally called him back but in reality, it was only 45 minutes. They decided to meet at a restaurant they both liked only a few minutes from the hospital. It was decent and reasonably priced. It only took House a few minutes to get there on his motorcycle and he walked inside, Wilson wasn't there yet, so the hostess seated him, placed two menus down on the table. A minute later, Wilson walked in and shot House a worried look as he took off his coat and sat down across from him.

"Uh oh. You're here first. You're never here first, what does that mean?"

"It means I'm hungry." House was annoyed at Wilson always reading far too much into things but had recently had a renewed appreciation for him so didn't give him too much grief over it.

"You said you needed to get your mind off of something."

"Yeah. My hunger." House paused before deciding to be at least semi truthful. "And I'm horny." His phrasing didn't surprise Wilson; House was never one to beat around the Bush.

"What about," he looked around, quieting his tone "hookers. I assume you still have no moral opposition to them. Why don't you," he stopped mid-sentence before altering his train of thought. "You're here to borrow money aren't you? I'm not paying for you to get laid, House. I don't care how badly you think you need it."

"What if I told you there was a pimp gunning for me to pay up?"

"I wouldn't believe you," Wilson gave House a quick, skeptical glance over his menu.

"I don't need money." House set his menu down on the table. Wilson, becoming increasingly curious, laid his menu down as well.

"What is this about, House?" House, seeing the waitress making her way towards them, ignored his question. When the waitress came, she was young and pretty and her skirt was far too tight. She took their order and left, Wilson couldn't help but look at her ass form the corner of his eye as she walked away. He turned to look at House to conquer with his assessment but House was looking elsewhere.

"Alright, what's the matter with you?" Wilson asked.

"What?" House responded, not really interested in Wilson's reason for asking.

"You didn't even check out that waitress. She was hot."

"She had a snaggle tooth."

"She was hot." Wilson corrected. "What's on your mind?" Wilson was genuinely concerned for his friend but managed to sound nonchalant.

"I really need a better reason for eating with you than 'I'm hungry'? And a better reason for not checking out that waitress than 'snaggle tooth'?"

"She did not have a snaggle tooth. And what's with your sudden aversion to hook-" Wilson made another mid-thought realization. "It's a woman!" Wilson practically shouted. House ducked his head down, still looking at Wilson with his wrinkled brow. "It is a woman," Wilson smirked. "Who is she? Do I know her?"

"It's not a woman." House said, looking around the restaurant casually.

"Yes it is! You've got woman troubles. That's why you're not interested in hookers or checking out the waitress. Who is she?"

"No one." House said, leaning back in his seat, trying to seem convincing. "You were right the first time. I need money." House looked down at the table, his fingers running along a groove in its surface.

"If you needed money, you'd take me to dinner, not lunch."

"I'm _that_ broke," house stressed. "You gonna help me out or not?" House asked, not caring about his answer.

"House, if you're in need of a woman in your life, maybe you should try to go out and meet one. Maybe you should try speed dating. Even you can pull off normal for sixty seconds." House wanted to say that his cane made a bigger impression in sixty seconds than anything he could possibly say, but he remembered he didn't actually want any money from him. "Or maybe you should just ask out someone at the hospital."

"Right, maybe there's a nurse or two who hasn't met me yet," House said cynically.

"Some people know you and like you anyway. like that night janitor."

"He wears his pants backwards. Oh and he's a _he_."

"Cameron likes you."

"I fit into Cameron's strange psychopathology that requires that she fall in love with only damaged men who need to be nursed back to physical and/or emotional health. We should start picking out china patterns."

"Yeah, but she's cute."

"She's moving in with Chase."

"But you could have had her. She told you she liked you." House just shrugged and made a casual "nah" face. But Wilson knew his friend well enough to know his reasoning. Cameron wasn't right for him. She meant well, but House laughed at good intentions; they didn't amount to anything in the larger scheme of his life philosophy. She was a young girl, fumbling around too close to House's world of broken glass; he would have cut her because he could. She would have been worse for it, and he would have been the same. Turning her down her was one of the few truly good things House had done in the past couple of years.

"Cuddy likes you," Wilson began tentatively. "God knows why. You've been an ass to her ever since-"

"When is our food going to get here? I'm starving." House did not want to talk about Cuddy. Anything but her.

"It's only been five minutes." Wilson said, not surprised by House's apparent impatiens in the least.

"And I don't come here for the five star veal Parmesan. It's cheap and quick. Emphasis on the quick." House said, looking around for their waitress. They continued to talk about the nursing staff, Chase's new haircut that house claimed made him look like a lesbian, and other such trivial things. Occasionally Cuddy would come up in the conversation when Wilson would recap a board meeting or talk about a dinner they had about the oncology department but House would always steer the conversation away from her. He wanted a break from his thoughts about her. Eventually, food came and they continued their conversation until they were both full.

As they got up to leave, Wilson informed House that he had to go help his brother move into a new apartment and they went there separate ways. House rode his motorcycle back to his home, letting the cold autumn air numb his cheeks as he flew down the Princeton streets.

Meanwhile, Cuddy sat at a table in the dining hall of an upscale California hotel. She was having brunch with three other deans of medicine (each of which were older men), two female doctors at the head of their respective departments (both oncologists), and a man she only knew of from the speech he'd given the night before. He was a neurologist with a research grant working out of a Princeton laboratory.

Over the course of the meal, Cuddy found it difficult to participate in conversation, as her mind was off, dancing around other thoughts that she'd never admit to thinking out loud. When the waiter came, and placed her food in front of her, she noticed his hands were similar to House's. She found herself distracted by thoughts of House's hands, places they'd been. Occasionally one of the older Dean's would display some ignorant form of sexism and she found herself wondering what insult House would have said in response. She'd thought of a couple particularly funny ones and smiled to herself. Usually, she dragged herself out of her meandering thoughts when she was in professional company, but she was listening to her inner House, who told her to do as she damn well pleased so she continued to day dream. Occasionally, however, the conversation would require her attention and she would be forced to participate.

"You're one of how many female deans of medicine?" asked one of the older Deans.

"Three." One of the Oncologists answered for her. "Lisa is very impressive." She'd met the woman at several of these conferences and considered her to be an acquaintance. They had lunch whenever the other was in town.

"Indeed," the neurologist said quietly. He didn't seem the type who socialized on a regular basis, which seemed odd; he was very attractive and could be no older than thirty five.

"Well, I found your speech to be very impressive as well," Lisa responded politely.

"Thank you." He spoke very respectfully but with a lack of enthusiasm that piqued Cuddy's curiosity.

"Ethan, I've heard you just received a large grant to continue your research. That must be very exciting for you," said an older gentlemen at the table to the neurologist.

"Yes, I'm very pleased with myself," the neurologist said, looking around apathetically. It wasn't obvious to everyone that the neurologist would rather be anywhere else, but it was to Cuddy. As the older gentlemen continued their conversation about hospital policy and accreditation, the two oncologists chatted about patient care. The neurologist held his hand to his mouth for a moment, trying to conceal a yawn.

"Bored?" Cuddy leaned over and asked him with a smile.

"That obvious?" The man asked, not really concerned. She laughed.

"I haven't seen you at any of these things before."

"Yeah, I don't usually like to leave my research, but they insisted I come speak." Cuddy nodded and smiled.

"Well, as I said, your speech was very remarkable."

"Yeah right, I saw you snoring in the back," he joked.

"I don't snore," Cuddy alleged, pretending to be insulted. "Maybe I drool a little. But I don't snore."

"My mistake," he smiled. She returned his smile.

"How long have you lived in Princeton?" Cuddy asked, taking a sip of her orange juice.

"Well, I was an undergrad there. Then I went to med school at Stanford and came back when I got a grant to do my research. How about you?"

"A long time. Over 15 years. Do you like working out of the University?" Cuddy asked him.

"It enables me to do what I want. I could use some newer equipment but I'm fairly comfortable."

"Well, if you're ever not comfortable, you should give me a call."

"Are you offering me a job or propositioning me?" Cuddy couldn't help but laugh at how much he sounded like House.

"The first one. The boring one." She said smiling, politely.

"In that case, no thanks," the man said, looking at Cuddy's illuminating smile admiringly. Before Cuddy could even muster a face that told that she was uncomfortable, he quickly added, "That sounded horrible. I'm sorry." He shook his head at his own ineptitude.

"No, you're fine." Cuddy said, taking mercy on him.

"You're being polite. I'm a little socially awkward. One of those guys who spends too much time in the lab, you know what I mean?" He nervously adjusted his thick rimmed, dark brown glasses and rubbed at the side of his face, his hand sliding across the gruffness of his five o'clock shadow.

"Yeah, I can appreciate that." She said with a laugh. They were silent for a moment and she could see him struggling to find something to say. She couldn't help but smile.

"Well, thank you for your offer. I've heard good things about Princeton Plainsbourough."

"We've got excellent facilities." She was used making the pitch to perspective donors and employees and she was very good at it, but she got the feeling that he wasn't in the market so her tone was light and casual, almost indifferent.

"You're not the first Dean here to offer me a job," he leaned in closer to her. "In fact, all three of those guys have cornered me at some point to talk my ear off about their 'excellent facilities'," he said motioning across the table to the three men laughing and chatting. Cuddy was used to that kind of arrogance and wasn't put off by it in the least. She almost found it comforting.

"Well, you're a hot commodity. It must be nice to know you could take your pick of any hospital in the country."

"I like my lab. I like my assistants. The University doesn't meddle in my research so I'm not caught up in all that bureaucratic red tape bullshit. And maybe now I can use all these job offers as leverage to get some new equipment in my lab."

"Well, I'm happy to help," she smiled.

"Well, I've got to get going; I've got to speak again in a half hour." The neurologist stood to go. All the doctors at the table said their goodbyes to the neurologist, who took one last look at Cuddy.

"It was nice meeting you, Doctor Cuddy," he extended his hand to shake hers.

"You too, Doctor Kellerman," Cuddy smiled and watched him go.

"He's cute," she heard one of the oncologists say.

"Hm?" She turned to look at her.

"He's cute. A little awkward but cute. And brilliant. And you two seemed to get along."

"Well, he's an interesting person to talk to."

"And he's from Princeton. What are the odds of that? Right from your own backyard. You should give him your number."

"Well, he's not in the market for a new job." Cuddy picked up her drink again and took a sip.

"Not for a job, silly. You should ask him out. He's single, you're single." Cuddy didn't know the woman too well, but knew she was a gossip. They got along whenever they were at the same conference but Cuddy found herself avoiding speaking about personal matters with. At times, annual conferences can seem like high school all over again when women like her are concerned. Cuddy worked too hard to get where she was to seem unprofessional, so she often politely excused herself from their gossipy conversations, resenting the stereotype they perpetuated. Before Cuddy could speak, the woman spoke again.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Lisa. You've been single for so long I just assumed. Are you seeing anyone?" Cuddy thought about the answer to that question. Is she single? She certainly wasn't in a relationship with House. The only reason she agreed to sleep with him was because she didn't have time to meet anyone else. But she wasn't exactly single either. She couldn't very well date anyone while still sleeping with House. In a way, House was tying her down. He kept her from seeking anything more, all the while denying her something she wanted desperately. The night they had dinner together had been a taste of what it would be like to have a real relationship and she liked it. She wanted that. And she was only now becoming aware of the fact that she was worried she may never get that as long as she carried on with House the way she does. It seemed this woman's obnoxious question was a wake-up call: not necessarily to end her arrangement with House, but not to psych herself out into thinking it was anything more than that. An arrangement. Not a relationship. They were just having a little fun together. And she'd have to end it eventually, before she became too wrapped up in it. She thought about giving herself a time limit. A couple more weeks, and she'd tell him she was done.

"No, it's nothing."

"What's nothing?"

"I mean, there's no one." And with that, Cuddy turned to join the conversation the three Deans of Medicine were having about shift switching.

After brunch, Cuddy spent the rest of the day attending speeches, listening to sales pitches for new medical equipment and trying to avoid being flirted with by the older male doctors. Later in the evening, Cuddy stood at a buffet mingling with several doctors she didn't know very well and was looking for an excuse to escape when her cell phone began to vibrate in her purse. She took it out, and smiled immediately upon looking at the caller ID. She excused herself from the group and went into the hallway.

"House, I'm busy." Her tone of voice contradicted her words; she sounded happy to hear from him.

"I've been thinking about you." She smiled at his words, her heart skipping a beat upon hearing them.

"What do you want?"

"How about you call me back when you get back to your hotel room."

"House," he hung up before she could finish a thought. After the phone call, Cuddy found it difficult to focus on anything. The hustle and bustle of the room continued but Cuddy couldn't stop thinking about House. She was usually good at marginalizing him to the farthest reaches of her brain when she needed to, she had to be in order to do her job. She pushed her food around with her fork before deciding to retire early. She bid farewell to a few people and headed back to her hotel room.

She debated whether or not to actually call House. She spent the last couple nights reaching over in her bed, only to have it fall onto the vacant sheets next to her. She was worried she was already becoming used to him. Maybe even reliant on him in some way. The last thing she needed was to be reminded of how hard it was to get him out of her head. Despite her own reasoning however, she picked up her cell phone and dialed him anyway.

"Took you long enough," he answered.

"What do you want, House?" She couldn't help but take that tone with him. It was easier and it kept him from dancing around his intentions like a child.

"What are you wearing?"

"House." She stated flatly.

"How are the twins?"

"House,"

"Still as perky as I left them, I hope"

"House, you miss me," she said to him, regretting it as soon as she'd said it.

"What?"

"You miss me," she repeated it again, with more conviction but still regretting it.

"I miss having sex with you."

"I'm not having phone sex with you." She couldn't help but smile, knowing his intentions before he could even say it.

"Why not?"

"Because. I don't need a reason, House."

"You're no fun."

"Oh really? You didn't feel that way the other night."

"Yes, let's reminisce."

"Get your hand out of your pants," she laughed.

"I'm not wearing pants."

"Unbelievable," she laughed.

"Why did you call me back?"

"You asked me to."

"Yeah but if you didn't want to have phone sex, why call back?"

"I thought you wanted something."

"You knew what I wanted."

"Maybe I did. Regardless. I'm not doing it."

"I did all my clinic duty yesterday."

"You weren't scheduled for clinic duty yesterday."

"Still. I've been very good."

"I know, I've got Foreman reporting back to me."

"Then I think some phone sex is in order."

"I tell you what, when I get back, I will do whatever you want."

"Except the piano," he said, pretending to speak under his breath.

"Exactly," He enjoyed the sound o her laugh. "I reserve the right to veto."

"What time do you get back?"

"Eight in the morning. Why?"

"Looks like I'm getting up early."

"You're that impatient?" she laughed.

"That surprises you?"

"No, I guess not. But I'm going in to work. You'll have to wait."

"Do you need a ride from the airport?"

"Why would you do that?" she asked incredulously.

"Because I'm a good guy. Or maybe because the friends with benefits package includes pick-up's form the airport."

"Oh, you mean you want a quickie in the backseat." He could hear her smile in ever word.

"Or on the back of my motorcycle."

"I'm not getting on the back of that thing."

"Have you ever tried it?"

"No."

"You can't condemn something unless you've tried it."

"Tell that to the ten commandments." House chuckled at her.

"I have. They're very stubborn tablets." She laughed at his lame joke.

"Goodnight, House."

"Just describe what you're wearing. And make it slutty."

"Goodnight, House." He knew she wouldn't.

"Goodnight, Cuddy."

"And House?"

"What?"

"I'm holding you to that airport thing."

"And I'm holding you to the hood of my car as I-"

"Goodnight!" She said before hanging up the phone and cutting him off. She went to the bathroom to brush her teeth, turned off the lights, crawled into bed and fell asleep, smiling, thinking of House.

On the Monday morning Cuddy arrived at the airport, House had met her there as he'd said he would. It was a pleasant surprise, seeing as how Cuddy was ready with cab fair loose in her purse. When she spied him, she raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

"I can't say I'm not surprised." She was wearing her dark charcoal, floral coat with her hair pooling in dark, shiny curls at the collar. Her bangs were swept across one eye and she shook it from her face as she smiled at him radiantly. Her makeup was applied flawlessly in colors that complemented her complexion, House didn't care if it made him less of a man to notice that. Her lips had a hint of red that she applied purposefully light in anticipation of a kiss from him. She had missed his mussed hair, his wrinkled shirt, and his tired, unshaven face. And his eyes. His ice blue eyes emanated light like a beacon. He could not comb his hair, he could not iron his shirt, he could not shave his face all he wanted but he couldn't hide those eyes, no matter how badly he wished he could mute their color to match his ill-kept exterior.

"Don't expect me to carry your bag." He said, looking annoyed at himself for having come to get her in the first place. He hates airports. But a part of him knew it was worth it.

"You're such a gentlemen," she said before crossing a few steps to kiss him lightly on the mouth. "You don't have to try so hard, you know," she said sarcastically. "I'm going to sleep with you either way." He chuckled before leaning down to kiss her again. She dropped her bag and wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands dropped to her waste. They breathed heavily, both taking in each others smell that they'd sorely gone without for the past week. Their tongues moved together for only a few seconds before Cuddy pulled away from him. "Stop it. Before someone sees us." She smiled at him again. She picked her bag up and walked out with him by her side. His free hand rested on the small of her back as they walked. It made her heart beat a little faster and almost made her forget the promise she'd made to herself about putting a time limit on their arrangement. She was almost tempted to push it out of her mind for good. Almost.

Several feet away, amidst the hustle and bustle of the airport, behind the weaving of busy passengers and family members darting by, going about their business stood Kutner. Mouth gaped open, not believing what just took place mere feet in front of him. He watched them dissapear into the airport crowd and stood still, silently disbelieving his own eyes.

xxxx


	6. la médecine correcte

Disclaimer: All House characters belong to Fox and David Shore. Oh, and let's not forget Katie Jacobs, a fellow Huddy.

A/N: Wow, the response to that last chapter was overwhelming. Thank you to everyone who took the time to review and to everyone who continues to read. And thank you to Pippa for helping me brainstorm and being an astute, beautiful beta. I miss you. I also want to add that I am not a doctor (let alone a brilliant diagnostician), I only do what I can.

Enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this one!

xxxx

House woke in the morning to the smell of his favorite scent: whatever shampoo she uses. Her hair was splayed in strands over her face and fanned out onto his chest, where her head lay. He brushed it away from her eyes, running his fingers through her soft, lush curls. She stirred for a moment in her sleep, turning her face into his chest and let out a soft moan just above his heart. One hand lay on his chest and the other tucked just beneath her chin. He nearly laughed at thought that he was, indeed, cuddling. With Cuddy, no less.

He felt the discomfort of his full bladder and gently held her in place as he slid out from under her. He looked down at her, making sure he hadn't woken her before picking up a pair of charcoal gray pajama pants, sliding into them up his naked body slowly and limping, cane-less, into the bathroom.

Cuddy woke to the sound of his urine hitting the water in the toilet bowl. She smiled, with her eyes still closed, hiding from the harsh light of the morning sun. She cracked one eyelid open just enough to see the digital clock face telling her that it's only six-o-two. She rolled over, propping herself up on her elbows, his gray sheets, draped over her breasts and everything below. The shorter hair in the front of her face draped over one of her eyes as she watched the door expectantly for his return. After a few seconds, he appeared, shirtless, in the doorway.

"Took you long enough," she said, smiling lazily.

"Taking a piss after having sex all night isn't exactly easy; I had some clean-up to do." She smiled wider at the memory of the night before, their first night together after her return from her week long absence from his bed. The soft, buttery sunlight shined through the window, making a halo of light around her hair and painting her skin radiantly. He walked over to the bed, propping the knee of his good leg on the edge, using it as leverage to hoist himself up. He crawled to her until he was hovering over her, his hands resting on the bed at her sides, propping himself up, looking down at her.

"Good morning," she smiled, rubbing his forearms, with her elbows still propping her up.

"Morning," he responded, grinning at her. This was the first morning in all their weeks together that they had both been up early enough to experience the 'morning after' in bed. She'd usually wake up early and try to escape before they'd have to deal with their relationship too much. Sometimes he'd catch her and coax her back to bed but mostly she was gone long before he woke up. He was enjoying the sight of her in his bed, wrapped in his sheets, having just spent the night with him.

The sight of his smile made her heart stutter. She appreciated it deeply when his face mirrored anything resembling happiness. Especially when she was the cause of said almost-happiness. A small laugh bubbled up in her and she tried to suppress it but it just came out as a girlish giggle.

"What?" he asked, feeling vaguely vulnerable.

"Nothing," she smiled, leaning up and kissing his jaw. "You have a pretty smile." She looked up at him, still smiling. He chuckled, ducking his head down to kiss her. Cuddy cupped the side of his face with one hand, deepening the kiss for a second before breaking her lips away from his. "You know," she began, caressing his stubbly jaw with the back of her pointer finger. "We have a little time," she spoke with a seductive smile painted on her face so there was no mistaking her meaning. She lifted one leg off the bed and wrapped it around um, her foot stroking his lower back.

"I should wake up early more often." He said, realizing how much they could do in the twenty minutes before she'd inevitably leave him to go get ready for work. He bent down to kiss her again. She bit his bottom lip lightly and then ran her tongue across it.

He pulled back from her, looking down at her covered breasts. He pinched his fingertips over a piece of the fabric, slowly pulling it down, revealing her bare breasts, smiling at the sight of them. He lowered his head, planting kisses on her collarbone, then over her ribs, making his way down slowly. She stroked the back of his neck with her fingertips.

He ran his tongue along the tips of each breast, sucking and kissing, doting on each before finally resurfacing with a grin, like a happy child. She laughed at him before he interrupted her with another kiss. She welcomed it, opening her mouth to his immediately.

As they kissed, his hand absentmindedly reached out, running over her hair, along the side of her head until he reached her face and he slid his thumb across her cheekbone. He was an excellent kisser, always able to anticipate her every desire. He was soft and slow when she wanted him to be and rough and hard when she needed him to be. And he never failed to do _that thing_ with his tongue that made her toes curl and a moan rumble through her throat. Her hand breached the waistband of his pants, finding him already erect. She made long, even strokes with her hand that made him grunt into her mouth.

She could feel his arms begin to shake ever so slightly, getting tired form holding himself up, so she wrapped her arms around him, flipping them slowly so that she was on top. He didn't put up a fight. Once she was situated on top of him, she broke their kiss and sat up, straddling him with one bent leg on either side. He looked up admiring her topless form, all perfect and perky.

He looked up at her admiringly, with a faint smile on his lips. She slid one hand down his chest as she said "If I didn't know any better, I might think you liked me."

"On what do you base that astute assessment?" His tone was light and flirty. Her heart pattered almost nervously, seeing him like this.

"The look on your face." She said, dipping her hand into his pants again.

"Well I do like you. Some parts more than others."

"Oh yeah?" She asked, beginning to stroke the length of him again.

"Yeah. For instance, I like the boobs, the ass, and right now, I like the hand a whole lot."

"And my personality?" She asked with a fake pout, pretending to be offended. "What about my mind?"

"Those things take a backseat when you're naked and on top of me," he bit out the last few words in a huff as she made a quick jerking motion, meant to throw him off. "But when I'm trying to manipulate your guilt and naïveté into having sex with me, I can appreciate your personality and your mind too." He said smiling at her, proud of his crass comments. She shook her head at him before lifting her body off of him enough to guide him inside of her. She closed her eyes upon feeling an immediate rush.

She gasped when he thrust upward with his hips. He slid his hands up her thighs to rest on either side of her waist, grabbing hold of her, forcing her down, as he pushed up. She let out a soft "oh," before her hands fell to his chest with a small slap. Gaining her composure again, she rocked her hips in a circular motion, which seemed to work for him as he threw his head back with a huff. He responded by pushing even harder, pulling on her thighs even more.

"House," she whimpered, continuing to rock back and forth. She let out an 'ohmygod' before a familiar sound pulled them out of their heads and they each perked up to make sure they were hearing it correctly. Upon confirming that it was, indeed, Cuddy's cell phone, House snapped right back into their previous actions. Cuddy however, despite not wanting to leave him, heard the incessant reminder of her responsibilities filling the room with a shrill ring and could not go on.

"House, I have to," she trailed off when he made another quick thrust.

"Cuddy," he pleaded. "Don't" He tried to hold onto her, so she couldn't slip away but it was too late, she had left him feeling cold and unsatisfied, cursing that he'd ever let her be on top. 'never again,' he mused to himself. "God damnit," he complained aloud.

"I know, I'm sorry," she said, out of breath, springing to the floor. She franically searched though their pile of discarded clothes where she found her purse. She reached inside, just as the ringing had ceased. She looked at the screen, seeing that it was the hospital, and immediately dialed back. House plopped back down in bed, sighing at the sight of his erection poking up from underneath the covers.

"This is Doctor Cuddy," he heard her say. "Okay. Yes. Yes. Set up the meeting for seven thirty and I'll be there as soon as I can." and she hung up the phone and began to quickly dress herself.

"Fuck! Cuddy," House sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

"I'm sorry. I don't have enough time," she said, pulling her panties up and walking around the bed, looking for her bra.

"What is so important?" He asked, a bit annoyed.

"Some high profile patient was admitted early this morning complaining of partial facial diplegia and hyperalgesia. Apparently her people want to have a meeting with me as soon as possible. Something tells me the hospital is about to receive a large 'charitable' donation," she says with a half-hearted smile, hooking her lacy, white bra.

"Some rich woman's face get's a little paralyzed and I don't get laid. The world is unfair," he whines. She smiles sympathetically at him as she steps into her skirt, pulling it up her thighs and sliding the short zipper, at her side, up quickly. "Who is it? What's the diagnosis?" House asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Some actress or pop star, I don't know. And they don't know what's wrong with her. You should get dressed too. They've no doubt traveled all this way to see the world famous diagnostician."

"How presumptuous," he huffed. "What tests have they run so far?"

"House, if you're really that interested, then go in to work." She slid her feet into her shoes.

I don't usually make it in until ten, at the earliest," he said, yawning with a spiteful smile. He flaunted his tardiness in front of her, knowing that, because of the third rule she instated (that their personal and private lives were to remain completely separate), she couldn't do a damn thing about it while dressing herself in his bedroom. She rolled her eyes.

"House. Assuming this case is something that interests you, and I have a feeling it is, I'll give it to you. But you need to be there by the time I finish my meeting with her agent or manager or whoever wants to bribe the hospital today." She said, only buttoning the bottom two buttons of her blouse. She crossed over to him, picking her coat up off the floor on her way. She lowered her face to his, her tongue entering his mouth briefly and caressing his before pulling away.

"I'm up." He said propping himself up, spreading his legs apart, so she could see the evidence of what she was doing to him. She giggled at the sight of his erection poking up from under his sheets. "You better make this up to me."

"After the case is over." She said, turning to leave.

"Wait-what?" House asked, having forgotten completely.

"We had an agreement remember?" She didn't want to have to do this any more than he wanted her to. Part of her was hoping he'd never have another case again. She had to do this though, in order to protect herself from House when he was at his worst.

"Yeah, well now I'm reconsidering it."

"I'm not," she sounded stern. He opened his mouth to protest further but she cut him off. "House, I don't have time to talk about this now. I've got a job to do and so do you. Be at the hospital in one hour," she knew he wouldn't be but hoped he'd be there in an hour and half, when she actually needed him there. And with that she turned around and left the room, leaving him unsatisfied and still thoroughly erect. He listened to the sound of her shutting his front door before plopping his head back down on the pillows to think about their pointless rule number four.

Two hours later, House limped through the doors of Princeton Plainsborough Teaching Hospital. He immediately headed for Cuddy's office, not even bothering to settle into his own first. He walked through the clinic, past the nurse's station.

"Dr. Cuddy has been looking for you," a nurse called to him.

"Yeah," he answered back condescendingly. "That's why I'm headed in this direction." He limped towards he door, seeing through the window that she was still in her meeting, her assistant stood up to try and stop him.

"Dr. Cuddy is in a meeting and asked not to be dis-" House ignored him, walking past and stepping into the room. Cuddy looked up immediately, shooting him an annoyed glare at his being so late.

"Doctor House," she greeted with a contrived smile, pretending not to be irritated at his tardiness. Before House could say anything, a man in an sharp, expensive suit spoke up.

"Doctor House, pleasure to meet you, I'm Kiley's lawyer, Jacob Weiss. This is Amanda Jones, Kiley's manager, and Jim Bell, Kiley's Agent," he motioned to the woman in the pantsuit and the man in an almost identical black suit.

"Quite the Entourage," he answered, his eyes never leaving Cuddy's. "Kiley as in, sexy teenage pop princess, Kiley?"

"Yes, Doctor House, we were just discussing Kiley's case and-" Cuddy began before House interrupted.

"I'm not taking the case." He said plainly.

"Excuse me?" said Jacob Weiss, in disbelief.

"What do you mean you're not taking her case?" Jim Bell piped up.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan," He said sarcastically. "But I'm not taking her case." House said, just as matter-of-factly as before.

"House," Cuddy warned, angrily.

"Kiley Nash is one of the most famous teenage icons in this country. And you're turning her down? Can this hospital really afford the bad publicity?" Amanda Jones asked incredulously.

"Don't worry," Cuddy assured frantically. "Doctor House is going to take the case. Will you excuse us for just a moment." The three suits had looks of contempt on their faces.

"You better make this right," Jacob Weiss spat out in Cuddy's direction. "Or you'll never recover from the bad press." And then he turned to leave the room, followed by the other two. She waited for them to shut the door behind them before whipping her head back to face House.

"House! They have been in my office for an hour and a half, demanding to see you! You are taking this case. This hospital cannot afford to turn away famous teenage pop stars. Especially after the donation they just made." She was becoming increasingly frustrated with every word.

"That's just hush money to ensure confidentiality and of course, priority. It's obvious she's got something to hide. And you don't have to turn her away, give the case to Siegel."

"Teenage pop princess can't move half her face and tested negative for all the usual suspects and you don't want it?" She was playing coy.

"You know exactly why I'm not taking this case." He took a step towards her.

"House," She began with a sigh, leaning against the back of her desk. "Yes, I know why. But," she put her hand down on the desk. "But we agreed to take a break when you had a case. So you can focus on the case and I have less of a conflict of interest when you want me to sign off on-"

"Bullshit." He said, plainly. "You're want to go on break because I'm irritable when I work and you don't want to put up with me. But even when I had a case, you still came, if I recall. You still enjoyed every second of it." Cuddy nervosly peered around his shoulder to find the three suits pacing around in the clinic, occasionally glancing up through the glass to look at them.

"House. I'm not discussing this with you now. You're taking this case and that's final." She tried to sound as severe as possible.

"Hello, Immovable Object. My name is Impenetrable Force."

"House!" she shouted in a whisper.

"It's not like we're in a real relationship anyway. What difference does it make if we continue to-"

"House, I am not one of your hookers. If you need sex that badly, then maybe you should pay for it. And if you continue to bring our personal business to work, then you can consider our agreement nullified. Now do your job. Cure this girl." She wasn't sure what to think. She was starting to wonder if she had to end this affair sooner than she thought. She didn't want to have to beg him to do his job. Especially when she needed it most.

"It's diagnostically boring. She's got Bell's Palsy. Give her steroids; she'll be back on tour in two weeks. Statistically speaking. There's a 20 chance she won't-"

"We've already checked out her seventh cranial nerve; it's not damaged. She doesn't have Bell's Palsy." House just stood for second, not able to deny that his interest was piqued.

"Fine. I'll take the case. But this conversation isn't over."

"Whatever. Just go see your team." Her voice turned back to business as she turned to grab a stack of folders off of her desk. "I've made copies of her file but you'll notice some things have been omitted, like her tox screen. That was at her lawyer's request after the results were deemed unrelated to her condition."

"Deemed unrelated by whom?"

"By me," Cuddy looked up at him, daring him to challenge her competency.

"If I'm going to be her attending, that's for me to decide."

"House, I understand it's going to be difficult but can you please just do as they request?"

"You don't actually expect me to go along with this do you?"

"Yes. I do. I also expect you to get each member of your team to sign the confidentiality contract I've placed in each of their files, also per the lawyer's request."

"Right. The oath we swore was more like a guideline anyway," he said sarcastically before turning and limping out of her office, passing the suits on his way out who began to follow him, showering him in a barrage of questions.

"You are taking the case, right?" "How soon can your team start?" "How long do diagnoses usually take?"

"Don't follow me." House spat out in disdain, clearly not in a good mood. He marched off as fast as he could, thinking his team better be in the conference room already.

The suits returned to Cuddy's office where she promised them, yet again, the strictest confidence where Kiley's case is concerned. It took her another half hour to get them out of her office. On the plus side though, the hospital has just received a million dollars in donations. Cuddy settled in her office chair finally having a moment of peace. She lowered her face into her hands suppressing the instinct to scream. But she didn't have time to think about House, she needed to look into the hospital finance reports for the upcoming budget meeting. As soon as she picked the folder off of her desk, the mechanical voice of her assistant buzzed through the speaker on her phone.

"Doctor Cuddy?"

"Yes?" She asked, not looking up from the open file she was thumbing through.

"I've got a Doctor Kellerman on the line for you." Cuddy's head shot up in surprise once she remembered the name.

"Uh, put him through." She picked up the phone and answered with a confused, furrowed brow.

"Dr. Cuddy? This is Dr. Kellerman, from the conference in California, I don't know if you remember me."

"Of course, how could I forget. I was just thinking about your speech." It was Cuddy's job to charm people, she almost couldn't help it.

"Oh, really? That memorable, huh?" He asked. She could hear his smile in his voice.

"Oh, most definitely. I was very impressed. How can I help you?" She looked back down at her budget reports, closing the file, devoting her full attention to Doctor Kellerman, curious as to why he was calling.

"Well, I was working in my lab and found myself wondering about your 'excellent facilities'" He sounded confident in himself. Either confident or apathetic. She liked to assume it was the former.

"And?" She asked expectantly, a smile on her face as well.

"And I thought you might want to take me to lunch to tell me all about them."

"You work in a lab in an Ivy League university, make your own hours, and you just received a huge federal grant. You want for nothing."

"I want for some things."

"You want me to believe that you're interested in working for me? What happened to all the bureaucratic, red tape bull shit you wanted so desperately to avoid?"

"Maybe I'm looking for something else. Or," he cut himself off.

"Or?" She asked, confused but still smiling.

"Or just someone to have lunch with." She could hear him stop breathing. It took her a second to grasp his meaning. He wanted a date. Or he was just lonely. Either way it was a social invitation. She had too much to deal with, what with House's new high-profile patient. She couldn't leave for lunch, even if she wanted to. The best thing to do, for now, was to turn him down.

"I'd really love to but I've got a lot on my plate at the moment."

"Yeah, of course. You're the Dean of Medicine, you've got your hands full."

"But maybe I'll give you a call sometime." She wasn't sure if she was lying or not. "Can I reach you at this number?"

"Yeah, this is the number to my lab. I'm usually here all night."

"Alright, I will give you a call."

"Goodbye, Doctor Cuddy." After they had hung up the phone, Cuddy sat there thinking about Ethan Kellerman, trying to picture him again in her head. She gave up and turned to her computer to google him.

Meanwhile, House and his team were in his conference room going through their differential diagnosis.

"Kiley Nash?" Kutner asked incredulously, looking at the file that House had tossed his way "I love this job."

"You a fan?" Taub asked suspiciously.

"No," Kutner said, defensively. "No, I just- her autograph's gotta be worth a lot. She's a lucky kid."

"Are you kidding me? She's practically property of the Disney channel, having to apologize for mistakes that normal fifteen-year-old's get to make everyday. She doesn't have a life of her own." Taub argued.

"Normal 15-year-old's aren't held as the sexual ideal or making millions of dollars for singing crappy songs half-naked. Gotta love 21st century America!" House added enthusiastically, leaning back in his chair.

"She's already been tested for Bell's Palsy," Kutner said, reading from the chart.

"Yes, I have a copy of the chart too. And I can read," House antagonized.

"With all the stress to be perfect for the masses, I'm thinking the partial facial paralysis could be complications from drugs." Kutner suggested.

"Brilliant!" House exclaimed. "Except you're an idiot." Kutner didn't recoil as usual, instead just smiled at House smugly, as if he'd been waiting for him to say that. "She was already tested for drugs when she was admitted, as is SOP."

"It's not in the chart," Foreman said, looking through it.

"That's because she's one of the most famous people on the planet. Every test that has been done that has been deemed unrelated to her condition has been left out of the chart and locked away in a secret hidden treasure chest in the basement. You wouldn't believe where Cuddy is hiding the key. Hint: it makes sitting down very uncomfortable for her." House smirked.

"Wait, so we don't actually know if she tested positive for drugs?" 13 piped up.

"Nope. Just that it is unrelated to her condition." He decided it pointless to join them in their complaints, instead he just took Cuddy's side to move along the differential. "You've also got to sign the confidentiality agreement in your charts. Cuddy's orders." House seemed unconcerned.

"We wouldn't disclose anything. We're doctors, we'd lose our jobs," Taub complained.

"They don't just want you to get fired, they want to sue you for all you've got," House said.

"Wait? We can't even use her name?" Kutner asked, incredulously, looking at his contract. "Says here we have to call her 'patient x'."

"We can't call her by name, we can't know previous test results? How can we do our jobs if our hands are tied like this?" 13 whined.

"Simple. _You do your jobs_. Partial facial diplegia and hyperalgesia. Go." House's patience was running very thin. He wanted to get through this case as soon as possible. They all huffed and puffed as they flipped through the limited information in her chart.

"A tumor affecting the motor cortex of the frontal lobe may cause contralateral hemiparesis that progresses to hemiplegia." Kutner said, still looking down at the chart.

"Again, Idiot. Patient has no frontal headache and the onset was acute not gradual." Kutner seemed unfazed by House putting him down, which House noticed but ignored.

"Cerebral vascular accident or extradural or subdural hematoma. I'm thinking she had some kind of head trauma. Cerebral injury can cause paralysis due to an edema and increased intracranial pressure. It's the simplest answer," Kutner suggested.

"If she had head trauma, she'd have pain in her head, and as House just said, she doesn't," 13 argued.

"She's got paralysis on one side of her face, she can't feel anything," Kutner rebutted.

"And you think if she hit her head hard enough to paralyze one side of her face, the pain would be located exclusively on one side?" Taub asked, skeptically.

"If she had trauma on both sides of her face, she'd have complete facial paralysis," Kutner argued.

"That's ridiculous!" Taub laughed.

"I think the phrase you're looking for is 'you're an idiot'," House offered, leaning back in his chair.

"I think we can we can all agree she's probably sexually active," Taub began confidently. "There are some rare paralytic complications with syphilis, and House likes rare."

"She's 15. She would have had to have Syphilis for longer than she's been alive to have that kind of complication. Occam's razor. Kid probably just ate some contaminated food. She's got botulism. " Foreman stated, leaning back in his chair with his fingers crossed.

"Botulism would cause respiratory problems, she doesn't have any." Kutner added, still flipping through the chart.

"Again_, idiot_." House said, enjoying the thorough exorcise of one of his favorite words. "Botulism is a descending paralysis that progresses over two to four days. Just because she isn't having respiratory problems now, doesn't mean she won't." House said. "Do a CT to rule out head trauma, test for botulism, and get an LP. While you're at it, do a nerve conduction velocity test and analyze her protein CSF to test for Guillan-Barre."

"Facial paralysis is extremely rare with Guillan-Barre and usually progresses symmetrically, the other side of her face would be paralyzed too." 13 argued.

"Taub was right.; I like rare. Not a big fan of 'usually' though. Now go do what I said." House said, tapping his cane on the floor. Foreman, 13, and Taub left the room to go run the tests. Kutner stuck around. House ignored him, getting up to head over to his office.

"What is the policy against employee/employer fraternization in this hospital?" House looked over at him in surprise before donning a foolish grin.

"Kutner, I gotta say I'm flattered but you're not my type. Plus I've already got a thing going on with the night Janitor."

"You should be nicer." Kutner was visibly building up courage with each passing moment.

"Please tell me you've got something good on me and aren't just making demands willy nilly, otherwise I might think you actually are an idiot," House said as he plopped himself into his chair.

"You're dating Doctor Cuddy," Kutner blurted out with a nervous expression. House was stunned in to silence and Kutner's donned a prideful smile at the sight of seeing his caustic boss stumped.

"How do you know-"

"Saw you at the airport," Kutner uttered quickly, trying not to sound as terribly frightened as he felt.

"Why were you-"

"Picking up a friend." House just sat for a moment, thinking about the repercussions of this, trying to gauge exactly where it was that Kutner was going.

"What makes you think I care?"

"I don't think _you_ do." Kutner began, swallowing hard before continuing. "But if everyone found out that Cuddy is shtupping one of her employees, that wouldn't make Cuddy very happy. And it's my experience that what makes your girlfriend unhappy, makes you unhappy. Indirectly. Catch my drift?" House caught his drift quite clearly.

"Cuddy isn't my girlfriend." He said simply, knowing it wouldn't matter.

"Didn't look that way to me." Kutner stepped forward, gaining confidence. "What with the kissing and the touching and whatnot."

"And you're blackmailing me?" He leaned back in his chair with his fingers crossed, smiling at with what looked like pride. He was enjoying this new side of Kutner, despite being worried that this information might get back to Cuddy.

"Yep." Kutner tried to seem confident, even if he didn't feel it. The last thing House needed was for Cuddy to know that someone had found them out. He didn't want her to have any more reasons to continue this pointless break. Also, if she found out that Kutner knew, she might break it off completely. But House was a good poker player and played his cards close to his chest.

"What is it that you want?" House narrowed his eyes at Kutner, still smiling.

"I want you to be nice." House just stared at Kutner with his eyebrows raised, asking a silent question: 'are you for real?' Kutner continued, "I took some time to think about it and at first I tried to think of what would benefit me the most. But I couldn't think of anything you could give me that I would want. Then I thought I might as well make you miserable. So I want you to be nice. For a week. You know, kind of like that time you tricked us into thinking you had neurosyphilis and we gave you penicillin. Only this time it'll be a lot more fun for me." Kutner smiled.

"And you think I'll actually do this?"

"Yes. If you care about her, and I think you do-"

"How about I just fire you if you tell anyone. And you won't have Cuddy to run to." Kutner's face immediately shot to one of panic but slowly retuned to confidence. He was, after all, holding all of the cards.

"Or I just go to Cuddy and tell her that her privacy was worth your being nice for a few days. You think she'll be happy about that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure she'll be very receptive to you after you admit to threatening to ruin her reputation," House seemed a little nervous in spite of his smirk. "And what about when people wonder why the big mean, caustic doctor is suddenly oh-so nice? You'll be tempted to brag about your accomplishment."

"I'll play along," Kutner insisted. "But that's my offer. We got a deal?" Kutner asked, extending his hand, for a handshake. House thought about it, for a moment before a smile stretched across his face and he reached his hand out to shake Kutner's.

"Sure," House leaned back in his chair again. "You're easy. Id've just asked for money."

"Oh, this will be priceless," Kutner insisted with a grin.

Now go do your job, pretty please with sugar on top," Kutner chuckled as he turned and left the room. House watched him go, shaking his head, thinking perhaps, it was time to tell Wilson about Cuddy, if only so they can laugh about Kutner. He stood up from his chair, grabbed his cane and limped down the hall to Wilson's office. But when he came through the door, it wasn't Wilson inside.

"Oh, hello," A pretty young blonde looked up from a stack of Wilson's files that were piled neatly in her arms, she turned away from the filing cabinet she stood before. "How can I help you?"

"Who are you?" House looked around the room as if Wilson may be hiding.

"I'm Doctor Wilson's new assistant, Amy." The woman's title clicked with House as he remembered Wilson telling him he needed a new assistant.

"Where's Wilson?" House asked dismissively as he turned around to look behind him, as if Wilson might be there.

"He got paged for a consult." She set her stack of files down on the top of her filing cabinet. "You're Doctor House."

"And you're apparently psychic. What's my pin number?" House's tone was flippant masked with fake-excitement he used to execute his joke. "Then again, if you were that good, you wouldn't be a secretary."

"I'm Doctor Wilson's assistant."

"That's just semantics. You fetch Wilson's coffee, get his dry cleaning, file his paperwork. Does calling you something different really make you feel any better about being someone's bitch?" She didn't seem affected by his abrasive comment.

"Well, a secretary gets a desk," she said, closing the filing cabinet with her hip. 'Either she's an idiot, or she's perfect,' House thought to himself. "Doctor Wilson warned me about you. Said if you gave me any trouble, I should tell him and he'd take care of it." House smiled knowingly as he thought now would be a good time to slip into his new, transitory personality.

"Me? I'm harmless." He batted his hand at her. "If I ever upset you, you just tell me and I'll be sure to apologize." She smiled at him, seemingly falling for it completely.

"Well, that's a very refreshing approach. Unfortunately, he also told me how manipulative you are." House had to smile at the measure's Wilson had taken to stop House from corrupting his new assistant. House opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the door opening from behind him. He turned, expecting to find Wilson but instead, Kutner and 13 stood before him.

"Sorry to interrupt," Kutner said, with a sly smile.

"That's fine, Doctor Kutner. Doctor Hadley, what've you got?" 13 was thrown by the use of her actual name but ignored it.

"Patient X," 13 began "has total paralysis and just went into respiratory arrest, Taub and Foreman are keeping her stable but the tests will have to wait. But the paralysis is descending."

"Her seventh cranial nerve isn't damaged, just paralyzed so it's definitely not Bell's Palsy."

"Again, regurgitating things we already know makes you an-" He cut himself off, with a short sigh and half of a smirk. "-an invaluable team member! It's always useful to have someone who knows how to nutshell properly." 13's expression showed that she was thoroughly surprised. House was beginning to enjoy this new 'nice' thing.

"So what are you thinking? Her paralysis is progressing quickly. The time frame seems to correspond with Guillian-Barre, like you said. But Guillain-Barre is a descending."

"Most often it is, but there is an exception. Or it could be complications from drugs affecting her autonomic nervous system." House said, looking behind them, against the wall pensively.

"But we don't know what drugs she's on. Cuddy already ruled drugs out and pulled the toxicology report from her file."

"Start her on High-dose immunoglobulin therapy and Plasmapheresis." House started to leave the room.

"But we can't be sure it's Guillian-Barre. IVIg could make her respiratory problems worse." 13 said.

"By the time you've prepped the IV, I'll have confirmed the diagnosis." House again started to leave but stopped just short of the door, turning around. "Excellent wok, you two," he said with a knowing smile. Then he left the room, leaving 13 and the assistant thoroughly confused and Kutner thoroughly amused at how his plan as playing out.

House made his way down the elevator and through the lobby and clinic until he reached Cuddy's office. She was looking through paperwork at her desk when he barged through the doors.

"House," she said, looking up. "What do you-"

"I need to see 'Patient X's' super secret, confidential medical records." House stopped just short of her desk.

"House, there is nothing in that file that could cause paralysis. I looked." Cuddy stated.

"Well, I just think- and correct me if I'm wrong- the real doctors should have a look at it."

"Wow, you know just how to rub people the right way, don't you?"

"You tell me," he wagged his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"House, I can't breach her confiden-"

"For what?!' House asked incredulously. "Money? That's really all you're worried about, it isn't. And what is the worst that could happen?"

"Unlike you, House, I have many obligations to this hospital. One of them being keeping us legally safe from breach of confidentiality suits."

"And you think they'll take her death in stride? I guess it's better to have a dead girl next door than a living druggie slut."

"House," Cuddy began, preparing another case against his request. She didn't have many left. It's not that she thought House couldn't be trusted with the information; it was that he didn't trust her. He didn't trust her enough to take what she said on faith. Not that it surprised her.

"Forget it. I'll just go tell the girl she's dying and see what information she's got to offer," and he turned to leave with so much momentum one might think he actually intended on leaving.

"Wait," Cuddy said, stopping him at the door. She took a deep intake of breath "Patient tested positive for heroine upon arrival." House raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Wow. Never one to be outdone, I suppose. " He smiled at the girl's youthful indiscretion. "You're right. It's unrelated. It might have affected the way her Guillian-Barre presented but it certainly didn't cause it. She have any vaccines in the la sew months?"

"You're thinking Guillain-Barre?" Cuddy asked as she pulled the file from underneath a stack on her desk. House nodded and she opened it up, thumbing through it for the information he desired.

"No, no vaccines. Just the heroine and some ecstasy. That's not relevant is it? The ecstasy?"

"No." House sighed in disappointment. "Was that so hard?" Cuddy gave him a very faint smile on one side of her mouth.

"House," her voice sounded tired again. He could tell it wasn't going to be good news. "I've been thinking." This definitely wasn't going to end well. House sighed deeply and thumped the bottom of his cane on the ground lightly. "This isn't going to end well for either of us. Especially if we drag it out. It was fun but I think it would be better if we ended it now before either one of us gets hurt." she felt a sudden sinking feeling in her chest, as if her heart just detached itself and fell into her stomach.

"You mean before _you_ get hurt," House said, annoyed.

"Yes." She said, firmly but reluctantly. "Is that so wrong?"

"No." He looked down, realizing it wasn't bad at all. She had to protect herself. He wanted not to understand but he did. He couldn't fight her.

She looked at him as if she was pleading with him to say something but he didn't know what it was. Or he chose not to know it. He turned his back on her, walking out of the room.

He called 13, told her to put a hold on the Guillain-Barre treatment, telling her the tox results weren't any indicators of what 'Patient X's' problem may be. Normally he would go ahead with the treatment anyway, but he knew if the patient got any worse, it would be Cuddy's head on the chopping block as far as his patient's lawyer was concerned. He tried to think of another rationale, to placate his own conscience but he couldn't find one. He was protecting her. 'It's the only way to get back into her pants,' he rationalized to himself.

House went back to his office and fooled around on his computer, busied himself with medical journals and other such things until Taub came to his office to tell him that they'd done a lumbar puncture and the patient's CSF was raised.

"Guillain-Barre syndrome," Taub said. "Though the cause is still unknown."

"The cause of GBS is almost always unknown. But test her for Campylobacter food poisoning just in case. Start her on treatment."

"She's got several non-Guillian-Barre symptoms like nausea, frequent urination. Those are still unaccounted for."

"She's been under hospital care for a week, she's probably detoxing."

"And the urination?"

"She drinks a lot of water. Just treat her." House stared through the glass behind Taub and into the wall on the other side. The wheels in his head turning, thinking of all the known causes of Guillain-Barre, so he could solve his puzzle once and for all. But there was only one thing on his mind, really. And he wondered when would be the next time he could think of anything else clearly. How much longer could she litter his mind with thoughts and their little, dirty memories.

"You alright?" Taub asked, expecting a backlash or an insult. But House just nodded, not even looking at him. Taub left the room to go run another test and House continued to think about Cuddy and his patient until his team had gone home and the sun was down and he was forced to turn the lamp his desk on. House remembered how earlier, he'd thought it was time to let Wilson in on his secret with Cuddy. Now as an even better time; he needed to vent. He got up, made his way down the hallway to Wilson's door and didn't even bother knocking as he opened the door. Wilson was just sitting at his desk, half a sandwich lying there on a crumpled wax paper wrapper. Wilson pulled the sandwich closer to him instinctively, knowing House had a way of taking food items that weren't his.

"I met your new assistant today."

"Yeah, she mentioned you. Said she got the chance to see you diagnosing. She seemed impressed."

"She's cute," House said, devilishly.

"Don't." Wilson said, preemptively.

"Don't what?" House asked, feigning innocence.

"Remember Susan? The one you slept with right after Stacy? I had to fire her because of you."

"Hey, if you want dibs on her, I'll back off. She is _your_ assistant after all." House only humored him, pretending to be interested in his young, blonde assistant.

"House, she's my assistant. I know you only hire women who haven't gone to med school for that reason but I'm fine with her just doing some filing, keeping my appointments and maybe running a few errands."

"Come on, that's what assistants are for." Wilson opened his mouth but before he could, his assistant was coming in the room with a handful of files.

"Oh, I'm sorry am I interrupting something?"

"No, you're fine, Amy", Wilson answered. House rolled his eyes, annoyed that he didn't get to talk about what he came to talk about.

"I'll see you later," House said, beginning to leave the room.

"Was that all you wanted?" Wilson asked his friend as he left.

"Yep," House called over his shoulder, leaving Wilson and his assistant behind. He went back to his office and sat down at his desk again, looking at the warm glow given off by his desk lamp.

The lighting reminded him of the night that started it all, when Cuddy had come into his office to confront him about his lack of completed paperwork and ended up massaging him on the floor. He pictured her on her knees, rubbing him, her eyes lost in thought, probably about him. He could see down her blouse and he chuckled to himself, remembering how he used t have to use his imagination. Not he knew exactly what she looked like naked. Her perfect, breasts, pert and perky, ready for his tongue to slide down-

"Shit," he looked down, seeing that he'd aroused himself with thoughts of her again. He smiled, remembering how coy she'd been, leaving him that night. His smile faded, remembering how she'd left him today, telling him she didn't want to get hurt. For the first time in a long time, he'd had something to lose. And he didn't know how to handle that, except to obsess about it. The solution, whatever that was. She wanted him to promise her something. What was the perfect thing to say? What could he do to weasel her back into his bed?

"Doctor House?" His head shot up to the doorway, seeing Wilson's new assistant standing there.

"What do are you doing here?" He sounded unintentionally grumpy but didn't care. She wanted him out of his office before she saw his rather offensive stiffening in his pants.

"Doctor Wilson is working late, I offered to stay late with him. He told me I didn't have to but I-"

"No, what are you doing _here_? In my office?" House clarified, in his usual dismissive tone.

"I saw your light was still on."

"And you consider that an invitation?"

"I wanted to tell you something," her tone was oddly flirty, which didn't go unnoticed by House. The stiffness between his legs distracted him from responding; he simply stared at her like a little boy. "I think Doctor Wilson left a something out when he warned me about you." She took a few steps into his office. "He didn't tell me you were a world famous doctor. One of the nurses told me. He also didn't tell me how sexy you are." House squirmed in his seat, to try and hide the evidence of his arousal. He was distracted, as beautiful and apparently flirty as Wilson's new assistant was; he was too busy thinking of Cuddy. He almost didn't even notice that the young blonde woman had unbuttoned the top couple buttons of her pastel pink blouse.

"That's funny, that's usually the first thing Wilson says when describing me," House said, uncomfortably. She laughed, her slightly upturned nose wrinkling and her hazel eyes twinkling. The young assistant placed both hands down on House's desk, leaning forward to give House a better view of her cleavage.

"I bet," and right then, her eyes fell down to his crotch, noticing what he was trying so desperately to conceal., She assumed this was the result of his attraction to her. "Wow," she said with a sexy smile. "You're packing heat." This was nothing like the first time he'd been caught in his office with a boner, in fact, he enjoyed this far less, even though this woman seemed far more interested in him than Cuddy did at the time. "You're far too easy," She said, still looking at the impressive display between his legs.

"Yeah," he said, his voice thick with air as he let out a laugh. "Well, work is overrated." He wanted to tell her not to flatter herself, that this biological reaction was an ode to Cuddy, not to her but she was already coming around his side of the desk.

"I can help you with that."

"I don't think so," he tried to stand but his leg was throbbing and she was already about a foot away from him.

"Why not? That's what I'm here for right?"

"You heard that," he said with a sigh, looking away from her, trying to think of anything to make his erection disappear.

"Yup." She answered, with a smile. "But don't worry, I'm not angry. In fact," she said, her knees finding their way to the floor slowly. "-I couldn't agree more." He put up a pathetic fight as her fingers made their way to the zipper of his pants.

"Hey," he tried, with very little effort, to try and stop her. A month ago, he would have sat back and relaxed, with his head back and his eyes closed. It wasn't until she had already taken him in her mouth that he finally gave up trying to protest and gripped the armrests on his chair. 'Enthusiastic,' he thought. 'But no match for Cuddy.' He began frantically trying to think of things to make himself disinterested. Wilson was the first thing that came to mind. Wilson would be pretty pissed off if he knew what his assistant was doing, he'd probably blame H ouse for it, though House viewed himself as a victim in this circumstance.

Meanwhile, Wilson was in his office, rummaging around through his filing cabinet, looking for something he had told his new assistant to put away earlier and it was nowhere to be found. He sat in his chair, waiting a couple minutes for her to get back form the bathroom, where she said she'd be. When she didn't return right away, he got up and walked outside, looking in the hallway that was completely vacant, save for a nurse he saw getting onto the elevator. He assumed she was probably on her phone. He walked in the direction of the bathrooms and noticed that House's light was still on, and thought about having a chat with his friend while he waited for his assistant to be done with whatever it is that she was really doing.

When he got within eyeshot of the window that saw into the conference room, he saw House in his office, sitting in his office chair, with his head back and his mouth gaped open. For a moment, Wilson thought his friend looked like he was having an asthma attack. But when he took a few hurried steps closer, he saw the top of a blonde head bobbing over House's lap. Wilson sighed, rolling his eyes, and considered walking in a busting the two of the, and ruining House's good time. His fists clenched and he was livid, realizing House had done exactly what he asked him not to do. He went back to his office in a huff, gathered his things and decided to go home before he did something he'd regret.

Thoughts of Cuddy were cycling through House's head as he imagined himself being stimulated. When he looked down to see the blonde giving him an eager blow job, he realized that he had to think of Cuddy to sustain himself. Upon realizing that, he became very alarmed. He became much more aware of what he was doing and suddenly wasn't able to keep it up. The assistant noticed the change and stopped what she was doing.

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked, wondering what could make a man lose an erection in the middle of something like that. She'd assumed she was playing out one of the caustic doctor's fantasies.

"No, I did." He said, readjusting himself so he was tucked away safely in his pants. He realized now, what he had to do.

"We can have sex if you want, but we'd have to use a condom because I'm not on the pill and-" House tuned out the rest of her sentence as his brain began to have his medical 'aha!' moment.

"She's pregnant!" He announced, esoterically.

"Who?" She asked, suddenly feeling very concerned.

"You can leave now." He said, picking up the phone, not looking at her. She made no movie to leave. "_now_," he repeated harshly, dialing. She was confused but didn't respond, simply mumbling something he didn't care to hear under her breath as she left his office.

"Hello?" Cuddy answered.

"She's got pregnancy induced Guillain-Barre."

"How'd you figure that?"

"We were so busy trying to account for the paralysis we forgot about her other symptoms and wrote them off as drug related. Nausea and frequent urination are symptoms of early pregnancy."

"Wow," Cuddy stated, impressed. "Have you done an ultrasound to confirm?"

"Not yet. Just trust me." That was the first time she heard him say something that. Usually he'd offer something medical there. Not just 'trust me'. She smiled to herself.

"Will the treatment hurt the baby? Assuming she wants to keep it?" She asked, always hopeful.

"the plasmapheresis shouldn't harm the fetus."

"That's good." She nodded, relieved. "Goodnight, House."

"Wait, don't hang up," he sad and she didn't. "I think we should talk. About us."

"I thought there was no House," she sat up further in her bed, her interest piqued.

"Cuddy," He began, but stopped, not knowing what to say.

"House," she sighed. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"I have something to say."

"Well?" She stopped breathing.

"Not over the phone." She let out the air in lungs in a deep sigh.

"Well, then can it wait until tomorrow?" She asked, feeling tired.

"Yeah, if you promise you won't avoid me all day."

"Goodnight, House." She smiled, brightly. He pictured it in his head.

"What are you wearing?"

"Goodnight, House," she laughed.

"Goodnight, Cuddy."

Cuddy pushed the 'end' button on her cordless phone and placed it on her kitchen counter. A weak smile graced her lips with a sigh when she thought about what it could be that House wanted to tell her. He probably just wanted more sex. But she had convinced herself that they were through with that. She couldn't let him tie her down any longer. Maybe he just wants to apologize for leading her on in the first place, though that wasn't like him. Maybe he wants something else. Something more. Not wanting to get ahead of herself, she pushed the thoughts from her mind. She was, after all, still angry with him, bringing there personal laundry to work and not caring how she felt about it. Despite the way he treats her he still expects her to be there for him whenever he wants. He is completely self-serving above all else.

Cuddy decided she should get to bed early, given how late she stayed up with him the night before. She tried to stop the smile from crossign her face when she remembered the things he'd done to her. As she brushed her teeth, she thought about how, sometimes, she could almost convince herself that they were in a relationship, even though she knew better. The way he kissed her, the way he looked at her. Even when they were at work, she'd catch him watching her from across the clinic. Not lustfully, like one might expect from him, but he was pensive. At first she thought he was picturing her naked but he probably would have told her that. He was never coy about his desire for her, sexually. But he never told her what was on his mind when she asked him why he looked so caught in his thughts, looking. He just stared at her sometimes. As if he were seeing her thoughts. That's why he made her nervous. He was like a high-powered magnifying glass, amplifying her every desire, every emotion, every flaw. She squirmed sometimes under the intensity of his gaze. But it was exhilarating; she'd never known that kind of excitement.

Initially, when they first began sleeping together, she was concerned that it would have a negative impact on their work. But it didn't (with the exception of today). At one point, she was in his office, to yell at him, fruitlessly, about stealing supplies and equipment from other departments. Kutner came in with new information on his patient and she stuck around for the differential, much to House's dismay. As they stood there in his conference room, next to each other, listening to his team spout out ideas, she was sure she'd never been so aware of him. They stood close enough to where their arms touched, discretely, like their little secret. Even that was enough to make her cheeks flush and her heart feel electric.

And on the now uncommon nights when she goes to bed alone, she finds it difficult to sleep, her head not resting atop his rising and falling chest, not hearing the sound his breathing, his heartbeat.

She was conflicted as to what to do about him. She wanted him, she knew that. In what capacity could she have him? Would it be enough? If their current arrangment, with all its rules and ropes tying her down, was all he could give her, was that enough? Was it worth the pain that he would no doubt cause her? Maybe he won't hurt her. Maybe this was all he could ever give her. But how could she keep from pushing for more, wihtout pushing him away? She finds it easier for her, to make these questions tomorrow's problem. Only tomorrow will tell, depending on what it is that he has to say. Cuddy finished brushing her teeth and turned off the light in the bathroom and went to dress herself for bed.

The next morning, Cuddy walked into the hospital feeling an unfamiliar excitement in the pit of her stomach as she wondered what time House might get in, when he might stop by to see her, and what he'd tell her when he got there. She walked up to the main desk to find Wilson standing there, signing some paperwork and handing it to the woman at the front desk.

"Can you make sure this get's to Doctor Riley in pediatrics?" he asked, sounding exhausted.

"Where's your assistant?" Cuddy asked, wondering why he had the front desk doing her job.

"I had to let her go." Wilson said with resentment, seemingly having no interest in elaborating.

"Didn't you just hire her?" She asked, confused with a furrowed brow.

"Remember Susan? The red head, worked for me for a year? Same deal." He looked back down at his paperwork when he was done speaking.

"I thought you fired Susan because she was sleeping with House."

"I did."

"And you're saying-" Her heart wasn't allowing her mind to connect the dots immediately. "Her and House?"

"Yep." He signed his name on another file. "This one goes to Dr. Fillmore, in radiology," he told the woman at the desk, she nodded, taking the file.

"How do you know? Did he tell you?" Her eyes were concerned; her face was still, waiting for his answer.

"I saw them." He said, sounding annoyed as he signed his name again.

"You caught them having sex?" Her heart was beating through her chest.

"Not quite. She was.." He glanced up at her so she could catch his meaning. He completely mistook her heart broken expression for surprise and he quickly went back to what he was doing. "Yeah," he said flatly in response to the look on her face.

"You caught them together last night?" It was a wonder she could keep the tears from collecting too noticably in her eyes.

"Yep."

Cuddy turned wordlessly towards her office. Wilson was so busy; he didn't have time to notice how hurt she looked, let alone wonder why. She walked past the nurse's station, through the clinic, and into her office, hanging up her coat, in a daze. She was sitting at her desk when her eyes became moist and glassy. She didn't want to ruin her make-up so she willed her tears not to fall. She didn't become the Dean of Medicine by getting all emotional over the budget reports on her desk. She saved her tears for later.

An hour later, Cuddy bitterly picked up her phone, scrolled through her called ID and hit send when she came upon the right number. She listened to it ring twice before a man's voice answered.

"Dr. Kellerman, this is Doctor Cuddy." She took a breath before asking, "Are you busy tonight?"


	7. Mercredi d'House

Disclaimer: I don't own House MD and do not profit from the use of the characters. House MD belongs to David Shore and Fox.

A/N: Thanks everyone. The response to this story has been really overwhelming. I really appreciate all the feedback and kind words. Thanks again to Pippa, for your invaluable insights and late night availability. I love you.

Also, this used to be two chapters but separated it into two so my next update shouldn't be too far behind. Enjoy!

xxxx

10:00 PM

The deep amber liquid spun around in his cup like a little typhoon as he swirled his glass around, sitting, lonely, on a bar stool. He stared at it for a moment before throwing his head back and downing the glass.

"Woman troubles?" Asked the woman behind the bar.

"Spare me the wise bartender routine and just pour me another one." His words slurred together ever so slightly. He was no doubt losing his car keys tonight. The last time he drank alone in a bar and took the bus, the night hadn't ended so well.

"You're getting pretty close to your limit there, Buddy," the bartender warned.

"Just pour the fuckin' drink, okay?" he said as he slammed his hand down on the bar, partly on accident. He was slumped over on the stool lazily.

"That's not how you talk to a lady," Said a man sitting one stool over to his right.

"Didn't notice she was a lady," House said spitefully. The comment was unnecessary, however; the bartender, though not strikingly feminine was very attractive with her shoulder length brown hair, sleeve tattoos and her nicely proportioned breasts poking out form under her black wife beater. Her face was exotic, her skin was an olive color. If it weren't for the way she dressed and the tattoos, one might wonder why such a pretty girl worked in a place like that.

"I'll knock your teeth out," said the other man, who was even more drunk than House was.

"Calm down, Earl," the bartender chided, to the older, unattractive, beer-bellied Earl. "I'm cutting you off." She took the glass from in front of the other man.

"Come on, Shannon, I had a bad day. I'm not even that drunk." He pleaded, his words strung together, giving him away.

"Your day is about to get a whole lot worse if you don't get on home to your wife," She said knowingly.

"My wife? Who needs her? I got you," He said, just before breaking out into drunken song. "I got you babe," he sang, off key.

"Go home, Earl. Before your wife pitches another fit." She must have listened to countless sob stories about his wife catching threatening to leave him over his drinking, the irony not lost on her.

"Why don't I go home with you, Baby?" Earl asked.

"Why don't you shut the hell up?" House asked, turning to the man with an annoyed expression. House was in no mood to listen to the man's drunken chatter.

"Who you talkin' to, cripple? First you insult my Shannon, then you talk back to me? You're just askin' for it" the man stumbled from his stool and approached House quickly. House was quicker; he picked up his can from wear it rested against the bar. He used the curved handle to quickly wrap around the back of the man's knee and he tugged, the man's leg gave out, just as House had known it would. The man tripped, hitting his head on the table and fell to the ground with a thud. As he tried to stand, The bartender called over a large gentleman who worked at the bar to walk the drunk man out as he hollered to be let go.

"That was pretty slick," the bartender said, almost smiling. "I coulda had you thrown out for that, she said with her hands resting on the top of the bar.

"Why didn't you?" House asked, only slightly curious.

"Earl's a drunk. A loud one at that, always hitting on me. Most guys who hit on me are harmless but I half expect Earl to be waiting for me by my car when I leave. He's a creep."

"Maybe now he'll be waiting for _me_," house said, looking deep into his glass.

"Maybe," she laughed.

"So what happened?" She asked, propping her elbows on the counter, getting comfortable to listen to his inevitable story. House didn't answer her. "You want another drink?" He just nodded. "Then tell me what happened."

"Why do you care?" House spat.

"It'll make you feel better," she assured.

"Again, why do you care?"

"Boredom. That's the only reason anyone cares about anyone else. They're bored and want to be entertained by someone else's problems, hoping they're worse than their own." House chuckled at her cynicism but said nothing. "What's your name? We'll start with that." She said, pouring another glass to give him some incentive.

"Greg," he answered, the alcohol starting to loosen him up.

"Hi Greg, my name is Annie." She said with a smile on one side of her mouth. House laughed again. "What's so funny?"

"I just got a blow job form a girl named Annie," he said with a sad smile. "Or was it Amy?"

"And that's why you're sitting here?"

"Yep." He said with one quick nod. "I thought your name was Shannon," he said, remembering that Earl had called her that.

"I tell Earl my name is Shannon." She said. "So, what's so awful about a blow job that you gotta come in here and drink yourself into oblivion?" She asked.

"You're not so good at this whole 'wise bartender' thing, are you?" He asked, taking another drink.

"Ah, you got a blowjob from Amy," she began, catching on. "But Amy wasn't your girlfriend. From the empty ring finger, I'm going to assume that it's your girlfriend that's pissed." House just nodded, taking another drink. "So she walked in on you?" She asked.

"Best friend did," he said after shaking his head.

"Your best friend told your girlfriend you cheated on her? Where's the loyalty?" She asked, becoming increasingly interested.

"He didn't know." He said, running his finger over the rim of his glass.

"He didn't know what?"

"That I was sleeping with Cuddy," he was to drunk to avoid being esoteric.

"Is Cuddy your girlfriend?"

"No, it was just sex."

"Then what does that have to do with your girlfriend?"

"I don't have a girlfriend," House said, annoyed, not sure why he was even talking about this in the first place. "I was sleeping with her, but I didn't tell Wilson, so he didn't know not to tell her about the blow job that his assistant gave me."

"His assistant, huh?" She wasn't sure she grasped every aspect of his story. "So, she's not your girlfriend? Just-what- your fuck buddy?" She asked.

"Not anymore." He chuckled at his own misery and misfortune.

"But you wanted her to be." He didn't answer her. "Shit," she muttered, shifting her weight to her other leg. "Well, your relationship wasn't exclusive at the time, right? Maybe if you just tell her you'd be faithful to her if you were together-"

"I tried that," he said, letting his head droop further towards his glass. "She didn't care," his voice was quiet.

"What'd she say?" She asked, getting more curious than when she usually listened to men's troubles at her bar. House thought back to that morning, when he walked into the hospital earlier than usual and headed strait towards Cuddy's office. When he reached the double glass doors he saw her look up and see him. She didn't look happy to see him but he ignored it.

"Don't say anything," he said, upon entering the room, trying to recall everything he'd practiced last night and on the ride to work. "Just let me say something."

"House," she began with a solemn look on her face.

"Just let me talk for a second." She opened up her mouth to speak but he trampled over her words. "I like you and I like having sex with you and when we're not having sex, I don't hate being around you." He said, with almost childlike inflections, recalling a speech he'd practiced. "And I know that isn't exactly what you want to hear but right now that's all I can work out. I don't know where we go from here but I was thinking maybe we could," his voice trailed off as he wasn't sure where to go with it anymore. "Maybe we could start over." She didn't seem pleased and that worried him. For the first time in a long time, his heart beat a little faster out of anxiety over a woman.

"It's a little late for that." She tried to keep her voice steady. House was confused; he thought this was what she wanted.

"Why?" He was perfectly still.

"Because you are just not what I need, House." She sounded cold. He couldn't figure out why.

"Since when?"

"Since always," she stood up and walked to her filing cabinet.

"We spent a month together and now, all of sudden, I'm not what you need?" She opened the drawer and thumbed through her files.

"House, you are selfish and damaged and I deserve better than that. I deserve better than you." She kept searching through the drawer, having forgotten what she was looking for but wanting to keep busy.

"I agree. You deserve better and I'm not what you need. But I am what you want and you can't deny that." She kept her eyes on the files, becoming livid at him. He was so selfish, he didn't care that what was actually good for her. She was even angrier because he was right.

"No, I can't deny that," she said, both hands on either side of the drawer. "I can't deny that I'm attracted to you, I've admitted as much. But I don't want to be with you in any other capacity than what we had. I don't want to be your girlfriend, House, and I won't let you keep me form being someone else's."

"You're a liar!" He pointed a finger accusingly. She turned to look at him, feeling so much smaller under his intense stare. "This is what you wanted. You wanted me to come to you and ask you to be in a real relationship. You want to have dinner and listen to me play the piano and everything else a relationship entails. I know you well enough to know that." His confidence moved two steps forward and three steps back as his speech progressed but he didn't show it.

"Maybe I wanted that yesterday," she said quietly. "But not now."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't want to be with you, House."

"What changed?" He asked her loudly. "Last night, on the phone, you sounded fine. Now you're angry."

"It doesn't matter. I don't want you. That should be enough."

"Well, it isn't. Not for me. I need a reason."

"I don't have to give you a reason!" She was so loud she was sure her assistant had heard her but she didn't care. "Just get out of my office."

"I'm not leaving here until you tell me why." His voice was also increasing in volume.

"House, just get out." She tried to quiet her voice but she grew angrier picturing him with her.

"No, we're not finished." He said, firmly. She wondered if he stroked Amy's hair while she went down on him, the same way he did to her. Or if he kissed her and did that thing with his tongue that made her toes curl. It must have been so easy for him.

"Get out!" tears welled up in her eyes and she was angry at his ability to reduce her to a crying little girl. She hated him for that.

"Not until you explain. I've done nothing to hurt you but you're acting like I did." His voice was so sincere it almost stunned her to silence. But she was too busy being disgusted by the how flippant he was about what he had done. He was going to pretend it never happened. If Wilson hadn't caught him and told her, she may have accepted his offer and House would probably continue to fool around with Amy, behind her back.

"You will!" She shouted. "You will do something to hurt me. You'll break my heart." House was disappointed by her lack of trust in him. He realized he should have known better.

"How do you know that?" he asked, unprepared for her answer.

"Because you already did," she said quietly, juxtaposing her previous shouts. She sounded somehow defeated.

"What?" He was confused.

"You _fucked_ Wilson's assistant." House felt like he was just hit in the face. He couldn't form very many coherent thoughts.

"I- what? Who told you that?"

"It doesn't matter," She closed her filing cabinet, forgetting about the file she meant to retrieve.

"Cuddy, I didn't sleep with her," House said, knowing it didn't matter.

"I don't care." She used her fingertips to wipe away a tear before it had the chance to fall.

"She just came on to-"

"I don't care!" She wanted him to leave, desperately. "Just go."

"You and I weren't together," He said insistently. "We weren't together, not really." he repeated on accident.

"The fact that you would even say that-" she shook her head quickly, stopping herself before she started to contemplate the new ways in which he was hurting her. "We're not together now so you can sleep with whoever you want."

"I'm sorry." He meant it. She knew it but didn't care.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm sure you are."

"Cuddy," He tried to say the right thing.

"Get. Out."

"She didn't mean anything to me." He was annoyed at the use of that cliché, but it was true.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better? You can just fuck young girls and not give a shit?" He didn't respond so she continued. "Did I mean anything to you?" She asked, another tear threatening to fall. He didn't respond right away to that either. "Don't answer that," she shook her head.

"You mean more than-"

"Stop," she hurriedly cut him off. "Just stop."

"Cuddy, don't do this. This is ridiculous. I'm telling you it was nothing. It won't happen again."

"Yes it will," she said, looking behind him at the door, suddenly aware of her surroundings, realizing she had to hurry the conversation along. "But it doesn't matter now. You should just go."

"I wouldn't cheat on you," he said, assuredly. "Not if we were together."

"In what way were we not together?" She asked, only just realizing, herself, that just because they had hadn't called it a relationship, that didn't mean it wasn't one. It was some kind of relationship. House realized it too when he tried to think of a way to explain himself.

"We agreed it wasn't."

"So if I gave someone a blow job in my office, you'd have been okay with that?"

"No," he answered honestly. She was surprised to hear him admit he cared. "But I wouldn't end it."

"House, we cannot be together," she spoke slowly and seriously. "I won't put myself in this position again." There was silence between them for a moment. "Will you please leave. I have work to do." House waited a moment, looking at her and couldn't help but be angry with her. She was making a stupid mistake and overreacting. She didn't take her eyes off of him until he slowly turned to leave, he heard her sigh deeply just as he closed the door behind him.

"Shit," the bartender said in response to House's story. "What are you gonna do now?" She asked.

"I'm gonna get another drink," he said, tapping the counter. He really had no intention of ordering another, but he'd take one if she'd give it.

"I think you've had enough," She said, as she wiped the counter top with a rag. Seeing that he wasn't going to protest, she continued. "So how did you find out that your best friend was the one that told her?" She asked, propping herself against the bar.

"I had a hunch and I ran with it," he said, picturing himself leaving Cuddy's office again. He was angry with her, of course, but even angrier at whoever it was that told her. The assistant wouldn't know to tell Cuddy and she had nothing to gain from it. It had to be either someone she told or someone who saw them together and there was only one person in the hall that late, that House knew of. When it clicked in House's head, he made his way to the elevator quickly. The elevator couldn't move fast enough as he waited impatiently for the doors to open.

House stepped off the elevator and made his way to Wilson's office. He barged through the door of his office aggressively.

"You told Cuddy that your assistant gave me head?!" House yelled.

"Mrs. Zirkin, I'll have to call you back. Yes, every thing's fine, I will call you back in a few minutes," Wilson said into the phone, giving House an annoyed look. He hung up the phone with a loud click. "What now?" He said, looking at House confused and upset.

"You told Cuddy about your assistant giving my head," House repeated, quieter this time, not needing the entire hospital to hear. Wilson had been so busy all day, he'd nearly forgotten.

"Oh, you mean the assistant I had to fire because you can't keep it in your pants? When I said you should ask someone out at the hospital, I didn't mean lure young girls into stimulating you orally in under your desk. Especially not one's I specifically asked you to leave alone" Wilson said, annoyed at him.

"Please, she practically assaulted me," House said, dismissively. "_You told Cuddy,_" he stressed with more importance.

"What- is she reprimanding you? She didn't do anything when you caught Chase and Cameron in the janitor's closet. I didn't think she'd care."

"Oh, she cares. And she's reprimanding me alright," House said, beginning to pace. His anger at Wilson was dwindling as his anger at himself began to rise once more; Wilson didn't know any better but he did.

"You got extra clinic duty? I'll split the time with you if you-"

"No." House said, still pacing. "If it weren't for your damn assistant I would have told you about me and her yesterday but the bitch interrupted."

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" Wilson asked, trying to follow his friend's nonsensical rambling.

"Of course, if it weren't for you assistant she wouldn't have given me head in the first place and I could be getting some from _Cuddy_ right now."

"What?" Wilson asked, disbelieving. "You and Cuddy?"

"We've been sleeping together." House said quickly, trying to get that overdue sentence out of the way.

"What?!" He asked, in a shouted whisper. "You've been sleeping with Cuddy? How long? Why didn't you tell me?" Wilson sat strait up in his seat.

"Remember when I told you about how she gave me that massage in my office?"

"Yeah."

"It's been about that long."

"What? That was like a month ago! You've been keeping this a secret for that long?"

"Yeah, she asked me too." House started pacing again.

"So," Wilson was beginning to put everything together. "So you've been seeing Cuddy… but then you hooked up with my assistant and I saw you together, told Cuddy… and she broke up with you?"

"We weren't actually together, it was just sex." Wilson couldn't hold back the small chuckle that erupted from his mouth. "What's funny?"

"You and Cuddy trying to have uncomplicated sex?" Wilson started laughing even harder. House just rolled his eyes.

"Why is that funny?" House asked, annoyed. Wilson quelled his laughter to try and explain.

"Because you two have the most complicated relationship out of anyone I know. Aside from you and I, of course," Wilson said with a smile.

"Well, now, thanks to you, it's very _un_complicated. She doesn't want anything to do with me."

"I'm sorry," Wilson said sincerely. Wilson thought back on earlier that morning when he told Cuddy about House and his assistant. "Jesus," he said realizing. "I missed it completely," he said.

"Missed what?"

"Cuddy. When I told her, she was upset. I guess I was just too busy to realize." He said, trying to picture the look on her face. "She looked kind of heartbroken. I thought she was just surprised." House plopped down in the chair in front of Wilson's desk that usually wasn't there. The two friends sat in silence for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said again. "But what were you thinking? Fooling around with Amy?"

"I wasn't thinking." House answered honestly. "And the timing was-" he shook his head. "It couldn't have been worse.

"What do you mean?" Wilson asked, curiously.

"I was trying to tell her that I-" it had been hard enough to say to Cuddy in the first place, let alone to repeat to Wilson. "I wanted more. I mean, I knew she wanted more from me and I told her that I was willing to try," He said, staring off into the space somewhere over Wilson's shoulder. Wilson just puffed up his cheeks letting the air blow out in a deep exhale, overwhelmed with all this new information.

"I can't believe it," Wilson stated. "It could have worked. I mean, it still could, assuming you're willing to fix this."

"How?" House perked up. Wilson almost thought it was adorable.

"I have no idea. But if there's one thing I know about Cuddy, she never has her mind made up when it comes to you."

"Yeah, well It seemed pretty made up to me," he recalled, leaning back in the chair.

"That was just her emotions talking. Women are like that." He said, very matter-of-fact.

"And this coming from a guy thrice divorced." House scoffed.

"And that coming from the guy who just royally fucked up his relationship with the only woman that could ever really love him," Wilson blurted out. House was surprised at the word 'love'. The idea of Cuddy having that kind of feeling for him made him sick. He refused to let his brain explore whether it was good sick or bad sick.

"Tell me how to make it right." House said, not looking Wilson in the eyes.

"As I said, I don't know. But I do have one little piece of advice:" House looked up at him curiously. "-Whatever it is that you think you should do- showing up at her window in the middle of the night, or letting yourself into her house to confront her- don't do that. Those are the instincts you have to ignore." Wilson warned, knowing that there was no way House would listen to him. House always did whatever he wanted. Wilson just hoped it wouldn't be his downfall. House got up to go, trying to think of his next move. Wilson stopped him at the door.

"House." He turned around.

"I'm happy for you." House just rolled his eyes.

"Don't be." He said sadly before leaving Wilson, who was sitting at his desk, grateful that his friend still had some potential left in him.

"Why didn't you tell him before?" the bartender asked.

"She asked me not to."

"You don't strike me as the type of guy who just does as he's told." House just sat there, staring into his empty glass. "So, what do you plan to do about this?" House just inhaled deeply and let out a huge say, saying he had no idea what his next move was going to be. "Well, you have to get her back." She said, insistently, as if he didn't already know that.

"Nah," he said with another exhale. "She was right, she deserves better." He meant it but knew that probably wouldn't stop him.

"Well, that's admirable," she said genuinely. "But we can't help who we love. It's not always who we thought and not always who we deserve." He almost cringed again at the word 'love'. She was uselessly wiping the counter down again and slung the rag over her shoulder when she was finished. The bar was fairly empty, there was a group of rowdy students at a table and a man and a woman sitting at the end of the bar talking, no doubt going home with each other tonight. "How long have you known her? Since you've been working at the hospital?" She tried to give him 'yes' or 'no' questions so he wouldn't have to talk too much. He shook his head.

"I met her in school. I was in med school and she was an undergrad," he almost smiled at the memory.

"Wow. So she hired you how long ago?"

"Over ten years ago," he said, surprised at the confrontation of his own age.

"So what took you two so long? You don't just start loving someone suddenly, you must have known-"

"Stop saying 'love'" he said the word with an antagonizing sing-songy voice. "It's not about love."

"Then what is it about?"

"Sex." He said, knowing he was downplaying things a little. "And we like each other enough. She doesn't annoy the crap out of me like most women. Perfect grounds for a relationship." She chuckled at his response.

"And that's just your way of rationalizing the existence of something you can't control. You have to put it in this logical box and use non-abstract terms when talking about it. I suppose that makes you feel less at the mercy of your own emotions." He looked at her like she had just been speaking Latin. "I took psychology in high school." she said with a smile, he returned her smile for the first time all night.

"Well, then, I think that's what psychologists would call 'projection'. I am not in love with Cuddy."

"Love is not a product of reasoning's and statistics. It just comes—no one knows whence--and cannot explain itself," she quoted. "And I didn't say you were 'in love' with her. I _implied_ that you love her." He chuckled again.

"That's just semantics." He said, gruffly.

"Sure but it's necessary. Love is just a word and people expect it to mean a thousand different degrees of liking something a lot. Two people are rarely ever on the same page when discussing it. So why not separate it into easier to manage categories? Love is how you feel about Cuddy. And 'in love' is what you'll be once you realize it."

"Love is just a little adrenaline, mixed with Dopamine and Serotonin. Chemicals. That's it."

"But it sure feels great."

"No it doesn't," he said despondently, looking into he grooves of the counter. She sighed at remembering his predicament.

"Well your problems won't go away sitting here, Buddy. If you want my advice-"

"I don't"

"Too bad. Get on the bus, go home, get some sleep, wake up tomorrow and start thinking about how to tell her how you feel."

"I hate busses." His words slurred and stumbled together.

"Then I'll call you a cab. But get home and get to bed."

"I should go see her." He said, rising from his bar stool and stumbling for a second before grabbing onto the bar for support.

"No. Greg, you need to go home. You think she wants to see you like this? You think she'll listen to anything you have to say?"

"I'll make her listen." He grabbed his cane and turned, stumbling, to leave.

"Doctor, you have to wait for me to call the cab." She said with a quiet laugh. She picked up the phone and dialed as he plopped back down on the stool. She requested the cab and hung up the phone, turning back to him.

"If you really want her back, you won't rush this. Besides, you're not so charming when you're drunk."

"I'm not so charming when I'm sober," he added.

"What's she like?" She leaned over, putting her elbows on the counter.

"Cuddy?"

"Yeah."

"She's got a great ass," he said with a drunken grin. She laughed at him. "She's beautiful," he said more seriously, smile fading. "She's also a pain in the ass, always assessing the administrative aspect of every decision." He looked off into space as he spoke. "She's idealistic, hopeful, naïve." He propped his face in his hand. "Sometimes she's annoying when she insists there's a perfect answer to everything.And she argues with me about my patients even when she knows I'm right," he smiled, imagining it. "And her voice goes up all high, like this," he said, poorly imitating her. "She's beautiful." House chuckled at his own misery.

"You said that already," the bartender smiled. "She doesn't sound like someone who would agree to a 'friends with benefits' relationship. I think you may have made some deeper errors from the start." He sat, silently thinking about that. Had Cuddy wanted something more from him all along? Where would they be now if he asked her out all those weeks ago. They'd be in his bed, no doubt. Tangled in the sheets, tangled in each other. She's be kissing his chest and he's be clearing the hair from her eyes. He'd smile when she'd look up at him and he'd tell her "I-"

"Hey, I think your cab's here," she said, interrupting his thoughts, motioning to the window. He turned to see the light on top of the cab blaring as the car idled, waiting for him. He reached in his wallet, pulled out far too much money, throwing it down at the bar in front of him.

"Hey, save some of that for the cab fair," she said, handing him back a few dollars.

"I'm not the one who needs to work in a bar to pay for my ivy league tuition." He said, drunk but still incredibly insightful.

"How'd you know that?" She asked, surprised.

"You quoted an obscure comic short by Mark Twain and referenced Gestalt. Either you're very stupid for not being in school or you're very smart for being a pretty, young girl in a bar where older drunken men go to ogle and throw cash at you. Not to mention this is practically a campus bar."

"Thank you," she smiled gratefully, pocketing the extra cash. He turned to leave again.

"Hey," She called after him, he turned back to look at her.

"I work on Wednesday's and Friday's. When you tell her you love her, come back and tell me how it went. If you want." He simply made a 'pffff' sound and turned and limped out of the door. He got into the cab, lazily flinging himself inside and shutting the door behind him.

"221B Baker street," he said, leaning back against the seat. After a few moments, he spoke again. "Actually," he said, drunkenly. "Make that 925 Mercer." He sat back once more, shutting his eyes, not too drunk to realize he was about to make a mistake.

xxxx


	8. Mercredi d'Cuddy

Disclaimer: I don't own any character from House, M.D. They belong to Fox and David Shore & Co.

A/N: Thanks again to everyone who has been really supportive of this story, it really means a lot to me and really helps me keep churning out new chapters. So thank you. Also thanks to Pippa who has been my Beta and Muse this whole time, I really appreciate it.

xxxx

8:00 PM

When Cuddy walked through the doors of her favorite quaint little restaurant in Northern Princeton, she immediately saw Dr. Kellerman sitting at a table in the back. She checked the clock to her right to make sure she wasn't running late. She wasn't, he was just early.

"Nice to see you again," she said, talking off her coat and draping it over the back of her chair, revealing a black, three-quarter-sleeved dress with a plunging neck line. Her hair bounced and curled playfully at her shoulders. He wore a brown sweater vest with a long-sleeved white button up rolled up to his elbows. He looked nice.

"You too," he replied, watching her sit. "I've never been here before." He looked back down at his menu. "What do you like?"

"Well," she said, opening her menu. "I like the butternut squash soup." He just smiled at her. "Don't like the sound of that?"

"Not really," he said and they both chuckled. He was attractive. His gruff five o'clock shadow was gone now and she could more clearly see his fair, boyishly handsome face. His thick, dark rimmed glasses framed his bright green eyes nicely. He even combed his hair. House never saw any reason to shave or comb his hair for any event. Though she's never been on a real date with House.

"It's good, really" She insisted. "But maybe an acquired taste," she smiled and he returned her smile before looking down at his menu.

"I think I'm gonna have the Rubin." He said, still looking at the menu. She could have laughed if it didn't make her so sad to be confronted with such a blatant reminder of House: his favorite sandwich. "Yeah," he confirmed, closing his menu. He called the waitress over and they both ordered their respective dishes along with their drinks.

"So," Cuddy began. "How has your research been going?"

"It's going well but I'd rather not discuss it. It's not a very good dinner topic and I tend to ramble and embarrass myself." He chuckled sweetly, pushing his glasses up to rest higher on his nose.

"Oh, I don't mind that. There's nothing wrong with passion."

"I'd rather talk about you."

"Okay, then. What about?"

"What's it like being boss?"

"Oh, so you want to talk about _my_ work?" She asked with a laugh.

"Well, yeah," he said, smiling adorably at his own hypocrisy. He certainly was handsome. If Cuddy really wanted to make House jealous, she sure picked a good one. She couldn't deny that she had revenge on her mind. She knew that going out with Doctor Kellerman would kill him. Or at least she hoped it would.

"It keeps me busy," she replied.

"Do you ever get to treat patients?" He asked. The look on her face and accompanying sigh told him that not only did she not treat patients, but that she wish she could.

"Not really. Sometimes I help out in the ER or the clinic but I don't get to treat patients as often as I'd like."

"Is it worth it?" His green eyes, while not as bright and searing as House's, interrogated her just as House's did, as if he didn't need to say anything at all.

"I think so," she said, sounding unsure.

"And you're… an endocrinologist?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, how'd you know that?"

"I just have an eye for these kinds of things," he said with a smile.

"Wow, that's impressive." She had a feeling he had just looked it up, but didn't tell him that.

"Is endocrinology your passion? Or did you have your eye on administration from the beginning?"

"No, no I wanted to treat patients. But I was always so ambitious. I wanted to get ahead," she laughed at herself. "It sounds silly now."

"If you could go back, would you change anything?" He leaned forward, genuinely interested. He was listening to her. She and House rarely spoke about anything personal and she couldn't imagine him listening or caring if they had.

"I don't think I could. We are what we are." That's something House might say. "But sometimes I find myself living vicariously through some of the doctors with more exciting specialties."

"Like doctor House?"

"What?" she was alarmed to hear his name. She quickly thought back, making sure she hadn't mentioned him before to Kellerman.

"Doctor House. You're infectious disease specialist. I have to say, a department of diagnostic medicine is a great idea. You started that department for him?"

"Yes I did. You've done your research," she said, still nervous and anxious to get off the topic.

"Well, he's a pretty famous guy. What's he like to work with?"

"He's brilliant." She felt the familiar stirrings of sadness putting pressure in her eyes and in her heart. "But he's not the easiest person to work with," she said sadly. Her tone made him slightly suspicious, but not enough to ask about it.

"So I've heard."

"So," she began, quickly trying to move the conversation away from House. She had no idea of what to say.

"So." He said, with a smile curving one side of his mouth. He could tell she was uneasy. "How about those excellent facilities?"

"Are we still pretending that's why we're here?" She said, with a sweet smile.

"I guess not," he said, relieved to hear her say that out loud. "So, having such a time consuming job, what do you have time for?"

"Not a whole lot," she said, with a smirk.

"Well, you've got time for dinner," he said, appreciative. "I'm grateful for that."

"You don't get out a whole lot either, I take it."

"No, not really. To be honest, this is the first time I've been out in a while. In fact, I've been sleeping in my lab recently, on the couch." She smiled at his dedication.

"So, why go out now?"

"I guess I was lonely. I don't usually-" he paused, trying to think of how to phrase it. "-meet people."

"So I'm the first woman you've seen in weeks and that makes me an ideal candidate?" she laughed.

"No," he said, laughing nervously. "The teacher of the intro to physics class, Ms. Wilshire, she's always complaining about the sound some of my equipment makes during one of her evening classes. She's a 60-year-old bundle of joy." Cuddy laughed. "I can expect her in my lab every day, threatening to lodge some kind of complaint. So, you definitely had some competition." 'He's funny too', she thought to herself.

"Wow, I'm- I'm definitely honored," she responded, nodding with a smile. He's a good guy, from what she could tell. Though, she wasn't sure exactly what she wanted from him. Was she going to sleep with him and never call him again? Or was she going to give him a real chance? A month ago, she would have jumped at the chance to go on a date with a guy who was attractive, funny, and as dedicated to his job as she was. But she couldn't tell if it was such a good idea when the only coherent thoughts in her head were about House. Either thoughts about how angry she was at him or just picturing him with the cute young blonde she met only once. While she was lost in her thoughts, he'd said something she didn't hear.

"Sorry?" she asked, embarrassed she'd been caught not listening.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, with a short laugh.

"No, no. Nothing. I mean, just work stuff," she said, shaking her head.

"You don't ever stop working, huh?"

"I'm sorry," she said with a blush. "It's just been a rough day."

"Well, let's see if we can change that," he said with a charming smirk, as the waitress approached, bringing them their drinks. They thanked her as she set their drinks down in front of them and watched her leave.

"How do you propose we do that?" She asked, wondering what, if anything, he could possibly do to get her mind off of House.

"I've got a few tricks up my sleeve," he said, with a grin.

"Oh?"

"Yes, assuming you're free after dinner."

"I'm free."

"You don't have another date after this?"

"No," she laughed.

"Good."

They made idle conversation until their food arrived and they continued to chitchat over their meals. Cuddy insisted he have a taste of her soup, which he claimed he enjoyed, though she wasn't sure. House wouldn't be afraid to tell her that her soup was terrible. Though she couldn't get him to eat out with her if she tried.

Cuddy began to realize how intense Doctor Kellerman was; he was passionate about his work and even about other random topics on which he sounded as if he could be an authority on. In that way, he reminded her of House. They each had a zealous opinion about everything.

"I don't disagree," Kellerman stated in response to something she'd said. "In some ways metaphysical ideology is exciting." He spoke with great vigor. "Take reincarnation for example: the Hindu idea that some essential part of us survives death. It's the same belief that Christian's subscribe to, only instead of heaven, our souls are reinstated into flesh before reaching the pureness of the universe. Personally however, I take a more existential take on such abstract notions as 'self' or 'soul'…." At that point, Cuddy stopped paying attention.

It wasn't that he was boring. She actually found him quite fascinating, but thoughts of House were dragging her mind away from him and his adorable ramblings. _Memories_ of House, specifically. She'd had a similar conversation with House once before. The night she'd come back from her trip. They were both lying, side-by-side, in bed, naked, under his sheets, after having just had sex. Their chests rose and fell in exhaustion.

"Wow," he'd said, as he had so many times before.

"Yeah," she laughed, turning to face him. She reached her hand out and let it rest on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into him; she rested her head on his shoulder.

"This guy came into the clinic today complaining of chronic pain," he said, stroking her back. "He was Hindu, quoted the Bhagavad-Gita, said his Jiva would be reincarnated as an ant if he took narcotics. He wanted me to recommend alternative forms of treatment." She looked up at him, her brows furrowing at this random comment. Could he really be trying to make small talk?

"What'd you tell him?"

"I told Krishna to shove it."

"House!" She chided, lifting her head off of his shoulder to look at him. "Why? Because his devout way of life threatens your drug addicted one?"

"No, because I don't respect someone who comes to the hospital and the tells the doctor how to-"

"How many of your patients _do _you respect? You don't have to respect someone to treat them."

"I don't _have_ to treat anyone. What do you think about reincarnation?"

"Gregory House wants to know my opinion about something?" She said in mock surprise.

"His interest is dwindling," he said, annoyed.

"Okay. I think it's interesting,"

"Interesting?" he laughed at the minimal confines of her opinion.

"Okay, well why don't you tell me what _you_ think."

"I think it's illogical."

"How's that?"

"The population has doubled in the last fifty years. Where did all the new souls come from?"

"Maybe they were animals," she said, laying her head back down.

"Hinduism states that making the leap from animal to man is a rarity. I can only assume because animals aren't held to the same judgments as humans are. And I refuse to believe that mankind has been so immaculate in the last 50 years that the population would double as a result of it."

"Or you're just afraid of being reincarnated as a mosquito because you're such a drug addled ass hole." She said, smiling.

"And there's that," he laughed. Then he dipped his head down and kissed the top of her head.

"There you go again," Kellerman said, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Still thinking about work?" He suspected she wasn't.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry," she said, embarrassed again.

"That's alright, I get it." She appreciated that. She wasn't actually thinking about work but she liked that she was finally on a date with someone who understood where she was coming from, where her job is concerned.

"I must be making an awful impression," she said, looking down.

"Not at all," he smiled warmly. She returned his smile and though she was unaware of it, he was thinking she had one of the most beautiful smile's he had ever seen. They finished their meals and when it was time to pay, he excused himself and got up and found their waiter. She was confused and watched him discuss something with the woman, also taking the time to give the woman his card. When he walked back over to the table, he sat across from her. She raised her eyebrows at him questioningly.

"I had to make a request," he said, smiling. She was nervous. What was he planning? She didn't want to have to pretend to enjoy something she had little interest in; it had already been an awful day. Despite the smiles and laughs he incited in her, she somehow felt she was barely keeping herself together. Maybe it was a bad idea to go out in the first place. 'No,' she told herself. 'It had been so easy for him to just hook up with another woman,' she was becoming sick just thinking about it again. The waitress came back with Kellerman's check and a brown paper bag.

"What's that?" she asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

"You don't like surprises do you?" he asked.

"Not tonight," she answered honestly.

"Well, in that case," he said, pulling a bottle of expensive wine from the bag. "I hope you like red wine," he said with a smile.

"Who doesn't?" she asked, relieved and yet still on edge about wherever it was that he was taking her.

"Well, then let's go." He stood, walking around the table, he took her coat off of the back of her chair and held it out for her to slip her arms into the sleeves. She laughed at him as she did so.

"Yeah, it's cheesy," he confirmed, continuing to assist her. "And outdated and archaic." She laughed at him again. "Honestly, I just wanted to feel this fabric, I've been eyeing it all night. What is this? Casmir?" He joked.

"Not even close," she said, smiling at him over her shoulder. He chuckled at his misfire. "Where are you taking me?" She asked, turning around to look at him.

"Well, that's a part of the surprise that must remain a secret. But if it makes you feel any better, it's really cool," his dorkiness was beginning to show again. From this, she was able to gather that it was something either to do with his work or something educational to some degree. Having deduced this much, she wasn't too anxious about their next destination.

"Well alright," they began to walk out of the restaurant. "I left my car at the hospital a few blocks away."

"You walked in this cold?"

"It's not that cold, it's only November."

"Well, I'm from the Arizona, even after being here for so long, I guess I'm still not used to it. And forget your car. I'll drive and deposit you back to the hospital when we're done." She agreed and they both walked to his white Subaru, where he opened the door for her. Their passage was easy; they weren't stopped at too many red lights and he entertained her with small talk about the weather and a little bit about his research. She could tell he was careful not to talk too much about it. He must have ruined dates in the past by rambling, but Cuddy enjoyed not having to talk so much. En route, she recognized that they were headed towards the direction of Princeton University.

"You're taking me somewhere in the University," she observed.

"Okay, that much I will admit," he answered. It didn't take long for them to reach the university; he pulled into an unfamiliar lot that she'd never been in, near the basement. He parked and got out, without a word. She grabbed the bottle, which had been resting in her lap, and followed him. He was at the trunk of his car; he opened it and grabbed a blanket. She looked at him incredulously.

"What is that for?"

"You are so anxious," he answered. "But I completely understand. I grabbed the blanket just in case you get cold." That didn't resolve anything for her, she was still uneasy.

"Why would I get cold?" She asked.

"Come on," he said, not answering her. She was becoming slightly nervous. It wasn't that she didn't trust him; there was something about him that made her very comfortable. She wasn't sure, however, if she could trust his judgment about the difference between "cool" and "annoying".

They reached a door, which he unlocked with his key, looking over at her with a reassuring smile as he did so. She smiled back at him cautiously. He opened the door to reveal a long fluorescently lit hallway. He was walking quickly. And she had to hurry to keep up with him in her heels, which wasn't too difficult; she had to attend to all kinds of hospital emergencies in her present footwear and considered herself a pro.

"I appreciate this," he said, as they rounded a corner. "I realize we haven't known each other long enough for you to trust me." He said when they reached a long flight of stairs. Before she could respond he asked "are those shoes comfortable to walk in? Because I can slow down, I just don't want to be late."

"No they're fine. Late for what?" She knew he wouldn't answer. After they reached the bottom of the stairwell, it was pitch black.

"How much lower can we possibly get?" she asked, realizing they had already been parked underground.

"This is it," he answered. "Here, grab onto me." He said, touching her arm so she could feel where he was. She grabbed onto his forearm as they walked through the darkness. She squinted her eyes to try and cut through the thick darkness but her eyes weren't properly adjusted yet. "I keep telling the night crew to leave this light on but they don't listen," he said as she felt him stop. They must have reached a wall. "The light switch is really far down here." She could hear the sound of the skin of his palm sliding up and down the wall, searching. She then heard the click of a light switch and a stark yellow brightness filled the hallway they were in and assaulted her eyes. "Sorry, I should have warned you." She let go of his arm.

"That's alright," she responded, squinting. She could see projectors and old imaging equipment staggered in the forgotten hallway. The floors were concrete and the walls were an ugly yellow brick.

"This is a very yellow hallway," she remarked.

"Yeah, it's a mess. This is just the back entrance. It's faster than walking all the way to the elevators and taking them down to the front," he said, as they made their way to a gray, metal door.

"The front of what?"

"This," he answered, opening the door, revealing a large room with a very high ceiling. There was a plethora of humming, modern machines and small rodents in cages and larger, bulky equipment in the middle of the room.

"Is this your lab?" She asked, impressed, looking around like a kid in a chocolate factory.

"Yeah," he answered, proudly.

"You're spoiled." They both laughed. "I can see why you wouldn't want to come work for me," she said, looking up a flight of stairs to an upper loft area. "Not to seem rude, but was there a reason you brought me here?"

"Oh, we're not staying," he said excitedly. "I just came to grab something. Have a look around." He went to the flight of stairs and ran up them to the loft.

"Is this a portable MRI?" She asked, looking at what she knew was a portable MRI.

"Yeah," he answered, completely out of sight. She could hear him rummaging through boxes and things.

"I don't see why you would need new equipment," she said mostly to herself, walking around the lab. "Is this…" she stood staring when she came upon a larger cage, that she hadn't noticed, from behind some of the larger machines. "a monkey?" She asked with disbelief.

"Yeah, that's Greg. My assistant named him after Gregory Peck. She's a big fan, loves To Kill a Mockingbird," he raised his voice over the sound of his rummaging. She put her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. Greg, the monkey. it was unbelievable. But her laughter soon turned to something else as she stood their, looking at the confined, solitary monkey.

"I bet he's lonely," the monkey approached her, when it reached the bars, it stuck his hand out, she just stood there looking.

"Naw, he doesn't really like people," he called back to her. "My assistants try to play with him but he doesn't like it." Greg held his hand out to her still. She took a step closer to see him. "Watch out," he warned. "Sometimes he flings his feces," Cuddy laughed. She reached her hand out to touch Greg's.

"Freedom of expression," she said to the monkey, with a smile.

"Found it!" Kellerman called out. Her curiosity got the better of her and she left the monkey to go see what Kellerman was looking for. He came down the stairs holding a large black machine that she immediately recognized.

"Is that a _telescope_?" She smiled, with her eyebrows raised.

"Yup," he answered excitedly.

"You brought me here to look at stars?" She wasn't sure if she liked that idea.

"Not just stars. The annual lyrid meteor shower will occur tonight near Vega, it should be in the northeast between Hercules and Cygnus." She looked at him curiously.

"Come on!" He was excited. She had to admit, it was kind of cute. "We'll take the elevator. Grab some of those cups," he nodded in the direction of a stack of paper cups, she did so and followed him out the front door of his lab, which led to a much nicer hallway with shiny floors and glass walls that looked into much smaller labs where she could see people working at their stations. Kellerman nodded to a few people he knew, unable to wave with his hands full, carrying his large black telescope. They reached an elevator and halted, she pushed the 'up' arrow to call the elevator. He was kind of bouncing with excitement as they stood waiting and she looked over at him and couldn't help but laugh, his face turned a subtle shade of red as he looked down and laughed, embarrassed. The elevator doors opened and he instructed her to hit the top floor button and she did so.

"Did you study astronomy?" She asked.

"Not formally," he answered. "It's a hobby." She nodded in understanding. The way he was almost giddy, made the silence between them natural and not uncomfortable in the least. In the silence, however, crept in thoughts about House. Though he'd never mentioned it, she was sure he knew something about astronomy and star constellations. House knew something about everything. He truly had an amazing mind.

The elevator doors opened and Kellerman let her step off first, immediately following her off and then leading her down a long hallway to a set of double doors.

"Where are we going?" she asked, sure he wouldn't tell her only moments before arriving.

"We're almost there. Can you grab my keys, in my pocket?" He nodded down to his front pocket. She reached in his pocket and grabbed them. "It should be the gold one with the 'E' on it," he said, standing, waiting. She flipped through several keys before finding the one with the 'E', she used it to unlock one of the double doors and opened it and a chill air blushed her cheeks. It was an outdoor, stone hallway that led to a big wooden door at the end. She recognized the area as the large Princeton Tower that she could see, driving by from the road. She smiled when she saw it. She held the door open for him and he walked past her, down the hallway, up to the wooden door. "It should be unlocked," he said and she moved to open it. They stepped inside and began to ascend the long stone staircase. It felt like forever before they were finally up all the stairs.

"Quite a walk," he stated, catching his breath. "But worth it." He paused for a second before adding, "I hope."

"Me too," she smiled, breathing heavier. "Wow," she said, looking out at the view. "This is incredible." She looked out at the city below, seeing how all the glimmering lights from the buildings and cars looked almost like reflections of the stars. She looked out and could see the lake that was lit up with moonlight, she could see the reflections of the trees cast on it, silhouettes casting intracate patterns down the large body of water. And she could the vast see stars

"Here, hold this upright," he said, handing her the telescope. She held it as he adjusted the legs, so that it could stand upright. "I'll show you how to set it up," he said.

"Great," she said, sarcastically with a genuine smile.

"Hey, you should be excited. This is a once in a lifetime meteor shower," he said, still tightening, the knobs on each leg of the tripod.

"Really?" She asked, impressed with his timing.

"No," he laughed. "It's annual. But still really cool." She shook her head, smiling.

"Okay then. How do you set this thing up?"

"Well, first, let's move it over there." He motioned to the edge of the balcony, where she helped him carry it. "This is called the optical tube, point it out this way," he just pointed out with his finger, letting her do all the work. "Now adjust the telescope mount by twisting that. It should loosen it so you can adjust it." She twisted the little knob and it loosened on its axis and she spun it in the direction he pointed. "Okay, now tighten it into place for now." She turned it clockwise to tighten it back. "Alright, now the finder scope is this thing," he pointed out the miniature tube mounted on top of the telescope. "We won't mess with that today, it should already be adjusted. This is the corrector plate," he pointed out a small silver piece towards the back of the telescope. "It's what collects and correct the light, and it's got a little secondary mirror in there, you see that?" She looked inside and nodded when she saw it. "That's what makes this baby work. Cool, right?" She just smiled at him. He chuckled. "Okay, well now let's get down to business. It should be a peak viewing hour," he said as he checked his watch. "Yep," he confirmed. "Now you want to look through the eye piece. Which is on this thing called the Hybrid Diagonal. You'll see your FOV- that's 'field of view'." She looked through it, closing one eye.

"It's all out of focus." She said, pulling away, looking for the knob to adjust it. She found it and looked through the eyepiece again and started to twist it. "I can't get it to focus."

"The key to adjusting focus is being really slow," he put his hand over hers, she looked at him when she did.

"Keep looking through the eye piece." He probably didn't even notice that she looked at him because his hand was on hers. "Now just turn it really slowly," he drew out the last two words for emphasis. "Like this," he said quietly, almost at a whisper. "Starting to look better?"

"Yeah," she answered.

"Here, lemme see," he said and she moved aside. He looked through the eyepiece and continued to adjust with precision. She watched him carefully with a slight smile.

"How did you learn all of this if you've never had any formal lessons?"

"My dad studied astronomy. He taught me when I was a kid," his tone was almost flippant, not nostalgic. Another way he reminded her of House. "Okay," he said, backing away. "Let me just loosen this," he turned to loosen the base again and then went back to the eye piece, turning the telescope. "First I'll show you some constellations. This month, the best ones to see are…" he drew out his last word as he began searching. "latitudes 30 and -90 degrees," he said to himself, moving the scope around. "There," he stepped back, motioning for her to see and she moved to look through the eye piece. "That's phoenix." He said. "You see it? Looks like a bird"

"Yeah," she replied, only really seeing a cluster of stars.

"According to mythology, the Phoenix was a bird of incredible beauty who would live for 500 years. The bird would build a nest of twigs and leaves that would be lit by the noon sun. The Phoenix would then be consumed by the fire, but a small worm would emerge from the fire and grow into another Phoenix."

"You are like a thesaurus!" She said, turning to look at him. He blushed and looked away, out into the sky. "No, it's not a bad thing. I think it's-" she paused not sure, the best way to say it. "I think it's great." He looked back to her, searching her face for sincerity. When he found it, he smiled warmly.

"Are you cold?" he asked, picking the blanket up form off of the ground.

"Not yet," she answered. "I'd like you to show me more," she said, motioning towards the telescope. He smiled like a little boy and rushed back to his telescope.

"My other favorite November constellation is Andromeda." He began searching again. "Declination, 40 degrees," he said to himself. "Between 90 and -40 latitude." He impressed her more by the second. "Okay, there!" he said, backing away quickly. Cuddy went to the telescope and looked through, again not seeing any shape that her brain could put together. "See it?"

"Mhm." She answered.

"Do you really?" he asked, skeptically.

"No," she sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm not like you and-" she almost said House but refrained. "I just don't see things the way you do." He grabbed her arm immediately. Not roughly but with some kind of urgency.

"Here. Come here," he said, unaware of his bossiness. Cuddy didn't mind it at all. It was actually comforting. "We don't need the telescope. Look," he pointed out, putting face right up against hers. His fingers traced the outline of the constellation, and her eyes followed. "See? She kind of looks like an alien with an antenna."

"Yeah. I see it," and she actually did. It didn't really look like a woman though.

"After decapitating Medusa, Perseus was on his way home when he saw Andromeda chained to some rocks by the sea. She had been captured by Cetus, the sea serpent and, after she promised her hand in marriage, Perseus killed Cetus and took her to get married. But she had promised to mary another man, Phineus, who showed up at their wedding with his army, demanding Andromeda back. So then, Perseus pulled Medusa's head out and turned Phineus and his army to stone and he and Andromeda lived happily ever after." After a moment he added, "I hope I'm not telling you things you already know."

"No. Definitely not. Just about the only constellation I know of is the big dipper." She said and they both laughed.

"The big dipper is one of my favorites," he lied. She pulled away from him, turning to look at him. "You want a drink?" he asked, walking over to where the bottle sat on the ground.

"Sure," she answered and he pulled a bottle opener form his pocket and removed cork. He poured her some in a paper cup and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she said, taking it from him.

"Meteor shower!" he announced, as if he'd nearly forgotten.

"Right," she said, watching him quickly go to his telescope again. He mumbled to himself incoherently as he searched. She sipped at her wine and watched him, bent over, searching the sky for his meteors. "Here!" he shouted after a minute. "Come look. It's really cool. I told you." He backed away and she walked to the telescope bending over, closing one eye and looking through the eyepiece with the other. Thick, bright streaks of yellow painted the sky brilliantly. If she squinted she was sure she could see some purple and blue as well, mingling with the surrounding stars.

"That's beautiful," she said sincerely, continuing to gaze inside the eyepiece. "Wow."

"Yeah, it's pretty neat."

"This is pretty incredible," she said, backing away from the telescope and then walking back to stand next to him. "Can you it see without the telescope?"

"Not really," he said, pointing in the direction of where the meteors should be. "But you can see the Gemini constellation is another one of my favorites," He pointed to the left. She furrowed her brows, trying to see it. "It's actually best viewed in February. But I like it because in it, there's Castor that looks, from our perspective, like a single star but is actually six balls of fire dancing around one another." She looked up at the sky as he spoke but he was looking at her. She took another sip from her cup. "You're very beautiful," he observed, watching her. Her eyes widened a bit and she hesitated to look at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, that didn't- I mean, I wasn't," he fumbled around with his words, which wasn't very much like him at all.

"No, it's okay. I just-" she tried to find the best way to explain herself. "I was just in a relationship," she was annoyed at herself immediately for calling it that. "And I-"

"You don't have to explain to me."

"It's alright. I should be honest with you." She took a deep breath. "I was in a relationship until recently. It didn't end well."

"So earlier, it wasn't work that was distracting you?"

"No," she said, with a deep sigh.

"Doctor House?" he asked, taking a shot in the dark. She was silent but looked up at him quickly as if asking how he could know that.

"Earlier when I mentioned him, you seemed uneasy." She simply sighed again, embarrassed that she'd been so transparent.

"I'm sorry," she said to him.

"It's alright. I'm just glad you came out with me."

"Me too," she smiled. She was beginning to feel the bite of the cold at her fingertips and she stuffed her hands into her pockets with a shiver.

"You cold?"

"I could use another glass of wine," she said.

"You mean another paper cup," he laughed. He poured her another cup and she drank it and then another after that. He draped the blanket over her and they sat on the stone ledge of the balcony and talked for a while. Eventually he showed he more constellations at their pique viewing hour and after a while, she was able to forget about House again. Eventually it grew far too cold and too late for either of them to be out and they both decided it was time to go.

"I think maybe I should drop you at your house," he said, nodding towards the bottle of wine.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea, thank you," she replied with a smile. He started to head for the stairs.

"What about your telescope?" She asked.

"I'll come back and get it. I've got work to do anyway," he said, motioning for her to follow. She did and they went back down the stairs and walked through the hallway, taking the elevator down to the parking garage where they got in his car and headed to her house, making small talk all the way.

"I'll walk you," he said, when they pulled up to her house. She didn't refuse, she got out and he walked her to her door.

"Again, I'm really glad you came out with me, Lisa." He said, with a smile.

"Yeah, me too. For someone who claims to be so antisocial, you really showed me a good time," she smiled.

"Well, I'm glad," he said with a warm smile. "Even if we can only be friends." Bathed in the light of her porch lamp, he was glowing, highlighting his very classically handsome features. And he was a good guy. He made her laugh and on a night like this, she couldn't have appreciated it more. She made a decision quickly, placing a gentle hand on either side of his face, bringing his mouth down to her. Their lips met and she massaged his with hers, gently. She opened her mouth, expecting to feel his tongue on hers but instead he pulled away. She was surprised and opened her eyes ready to apologize but he was looking at her front door.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, alarmed.

"No, what?" They stood for a second, not saying anything until there was another sound coming from inside her house. Cuddy knew instinctively what it was.

"You don't live with someone, do you?" He asked, taking a step towards her door.

"No, but you know, it may be my cat," she lied, realizing she urgently needed to get him out of there.

"That didn't sound like a cat," he said, reaching for the doorknob. She grabbed his arm before he could touch it.

"Really, it's fine." She kept holding onto his arm.

"I think there's someone in there," he said, to her then turning back to the door. She stepped in front of him, grabbing his other arm with her other hand so that they were facing each other.

"Ethan, I'm fine. You should just go-" Before she could add another word, the door flung open and House was standing in front of them. She immediately pulled away from Kellerman.

"Who is he?" House asked, in the face of a very surprised Kellerman.

"House, what are you doing here?" She asked, her voice ripe with anger.

"Who is he?" House asked again, annunciating each word, matching her veracity.

"Lisa," Ethan wasn't sure exactly whether or not this was any of his business. "This is Doctor House isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." House responded, scornfully. "Who the fuck might you be?" Cuddy realized that House would be hard to get rid of so instead she turned to Kellerman.

"Ethan, do me a favor and get out of here," Cuddy said. Kellerman wasn't sure he was comfortable leaving her with this man who was clearly drunk and making Cuddy uncomfortable.

"I think you should go," Kellerman said to House, trying to make his posture seem more threatening.

"Ethan, go. Please."

"Were you just on a date?" House asked Cuddy, his face still and serious.

"House, you've been drinking." She could smell the booze on him.

"Yeah, she was on a date." Kellerman said, taking another step towards House. "Now I think you should leave here and-" House raised his cane to hit him sharply in the shin.

"House!" She bent down quickly to help Kellerman who was hunched down, clutching his leg.

"I'm fine" Kellerman told her, holding his hand up.

"Good, now can you please go. Please. I promise I'm fine."

"Lisa, I don't feel comfortable-"

"Get lost!" House yelled. "I've already demonstrated I'm not afraid to use this," House held his cane out, his speech slurring.

"Ethan, please."

"Alright. Call me?"

"She won't," House said, bitterly.

"Yes, I will," she said, glaring at House. Kellerman turned, keeping his eyes on House suspiciously.

"Goodnight Lisa," he said before leaving the steps and walking to his car and driving off.

"House! You cannot show up at my House like this!"

"What the fuck are you dong on a date? It hasn't even been a day," he said, loudly.

"A day since what?!" She asked, stepping inside her house but stopping near the door so he wouldn't follow her inside. He closed the door behind her. "We were never together, remember?"

"But you implied earlier that we were," his words slurred together carelessly.

"Well I was wrong. And it doesn't matter because we're not together now."

"Why can't we be?" She was stunned.

"You don't want that, House. If you wanted that, we would have had that from the beginning. You could have asked me out, but you didn't. Just face it, you're just not that guy."

"What does that mean?"

"What do you want from me, House?!"

"I-" he started with a loud voice but was unable to continue, not knowing what he wanted. "I don't know."

"Then what _do_ you know?"

"I know I want to continue to have sex with you. And I don't want you to keep seeing Erkel."

"That's exactly what I don't want. You want to tie me down without committing. That's not fair House."

"What do you want me to say?" He asked. "Tell me what you want and I'll give you that."

"I'm not discussing this with you House, you're drunk."

"You won't discuss it with me while I'm sober either. Just tell me what you want."

"Not you!" she shouted in his face.

"And you want _that _guy?" He motioned to the door.

"House," she was beginning to get even more tired of him at the moment.

"You gonna see him again?"

"Probably," she said with a nod.

"But you have feelings for _me_." He stepped closer to her challengingly.

"Get the hell out," she spat out.

"You can't see him!" He was beginning to get frustrated, he didn't feel like himself. The alcohol was impeding his ability to express himself as well as he usually could.

"Of course I can't! Not without you hassling him. Or showing up at restaurant's, stalking us."

"If that's what it takes," he said, almost proudly.

"Of course," she laughed in disbelief. "You're so selfish you can't let anyone be happy without you, you can't let anyone go so you push and push until you get your way. Until they give in or they die in a bus crash." They went silent. For a second she could see that what she said had affected him. It was a glint in his eye and as quick as it had been there, it was gone. "I'm sorry." She said quietly.

"No, I'm proud. That was good." He had a drunken smirk.

"No it wasn't," she responded just as quietly.

"Cuddy," he put his hand on her shoulder. "Just tell me what you want. Honestly."

"Honestly," she began, looking down. "I can't be with you right now."

"Right now," he repeated. "What does that mean?"

"It means you need to leave. And I'm going to keep seeing Ethan. He respects me, House. And he treats me well. I know you don't care about that but," she trailed off. He looked wounded. But again the expression faded.

"I care," he said, turning to go. "I just don't-" he cut himself off. It had been a mistake to come here, just as he knew it would be. He'd only further convinced her that he wasn't right for her. He just nodded, heading for the door. He opened, stopping short, holding the door in his hand he turned back to her without looking her in the eye. "I'm not giving up."


	9. Malaise

House walked into Wilson's office, only glancing over in Wilson's direction once

Disclaimer: House does not belong to me but to David Shore and KJ and FOX, etc.

A/N: Thanks again, guys for the reviews, they've kept me driven and focused and I appreciate every one of them. And to Pippa, my lovely muse, I adore you and appreciate everything you do for me. Thank you so much for being my editor and for being my friend.

xxxx

House walked into Wilson's office, only glancing over in Wilson's direction once. Wilson looked up at his friend curiously, waiting for him to speak. Instead, House just sat down on the black couch in Wilson's office.

"You look-" Wilson paused, assessing his friend's appearance. "-hung over," he concluded. House just groaned. "Tell me you didn't get drunk and then go talk to Cuddy." Again, House didn't answer him. "House!" he scolded.

"It made sense at the time," he said casually, slouching further on the couch.

"Yeah? How about now?"

"She's dating someone," House said, ignoring his question.

"Already?" House confirmed it by glancing over in House's direction. "Who?"

"I don't know, his name is Ethan."

"There's an Ethan on the board but he's kind of old."

"No, I saw him. I'd never seen him before."

"You saw him? Don't tell me you walked in on their date."

"He was walking her to her door."

"And you just showed up?" House didn't respond. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Don't know."

"Well, what did she say?"

"She said he _respects_ her," he spoke the word with disdain.

"Who needs that?" Wilson asked, sarcastically.

"I respect her," House argued.

"Sure," Wilson insisted. "But does she know that?" again, House didn't answer. He knew he wasn't the best at conveying admiration. "Alright, well, at this point, the only thing left to do is to tell her how you feel."

"I did that."

"You told her you loved her?" House's head immediately shot up with a look of confusion.  
"No. I told her I wanted to sleep with her and I didn't want her sleeping with other guys." House knew that it probably wasn't the best way to get her back.

"You didn't," he said with a laugh.

"I was _saying_," House began, defensively. "-that I wanted to be in an exclusive relationship with her."

"And that's a big step for you," Wilson conceded. "But that isn't enough."

"Well, that's all I have to offer."

"Bullshit. You're just afraid to put yourself out there."

"I'm not afraid of Cuddy."

"You're scared to death of Cuddy," Wilson insisted. House just scoffed. "Look, at this point, the status quo isn't working. You've finally reached the point where 'same old House' isn't cutting it anymore. You are offering her as much as what's expected of you and so she has to accept because anything else would just be asking too much. It isn't enough. You need to step up." Wilson sat back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. House squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable in his current predicament.

"And how do I 'step up'?" House quoted mockingly.

"Tell her how you feel," Wilson said, beginning to get frustrated with his romantically tactless friend.

"I already-"

"Making demands is not telling her how you feel."

"I don't know how I feel." House was almost shouting, in annoyance.

"Figure it out," Wilson said simply. "I got to get back to work." House didn't say anything; he sat on the couch for a moment before getting up and wordlessly walking out the door. Wilson waited for a moment before getting up and walking out of the door himself. He took the elevator down to the lobby, cut through the clinic and found himself in Cuddy's office. She was talking to a nurse when he walked in.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked. Cuddy sighed, knowing what this was going to be about and dismissed the nurse, handing her a file on her way out.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said, opening a file, looking down at it and pretending to read it.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, I didn't know you and House were—" he discontinued the sentence and took a different route. "I shouldn't have told you."

"Do you really believe that?" She was hurt by that, and he could see it. "You really think leaving me in the dark would have been the right thing to do?"

"I think it would have spared you some heart ache," he nodded.

"It was worth it. I saw that I was making a mistake and that he wasn't going to change." He sat silently for a moment, trying to think of the best way to get to why he was really there. "I'm surprised he didn't tell you earlier," she said. "About us."

"Me too." He felt the tiniest tinge of betrayal for the second time that he was willing to ignore for the greater good of his friend's love life. "Cuddy, House made a mistake," he began, looking her in the eye.

"Wilson, don't tell me you're here to apologize for him."

"Just hear me out," he said, putting his hands up defensively. She looked up at him. "Don't get me wrong, you and House together, is not a good idea." He stated, attempting to keep his tone soft. She raised her eyebrows questioningly at him, she opened her mouth to speak but he continued. "You're both so different. You're an idealist, and you're sensitive. He's an abrasive, cynical jerk. A relationship would only cause pain for you both. Not to mention serious complications as far as work is concerned. You were right to choose not to be with him."

"Why are you—"

"But it isn't a choice," he said with conviction. "We don't choose who we love. And you never know how someone will surprise you." Her eyes widened and for a moment she was speechless but she soon got her bearings.

"Wilson, I don't—"

"Remember when I first started dating Amber and you tried to talk me out of it?" She looked at him and sighed sympathetically. "Well, you were right about one thing: we were too different; she was self serving and I'm—I'm not. For all intents and purposes, it shouldn't have worked." He paused for a moment before adding "But it did. And I loved her and she loved me."

"That's different. She never broke—" she wanted to say that Amber had never broken his heart but she couldn't bring herself to admit, once again, that House had burned her that badly. She just shook her head. "I see what you're trying to do. But you're just making this harder on me. I made my decision and I'm not letting you or House bully me into giving him whatever he wants like he does every other day. Please, as my friend, can you just respect that?" Wilson just nodded. "Thank you."

"He tells me you're seeing someone."

"I went on a date, yes." She looked at him almost as if challenging him to tell her it was a mistake. "His name is Ethan Kellerman he works out of the University."

"The neurologist," he stated in recognition. She nodded. Looking up, she could see the very neurologist in the clinic. He was waiting by the nurse's station, for her to be done with her meeting with Wilson. Wilson turned to see what she was looking at and saw him too. "That him?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, standing.

"I'll get out of your hair." She nodded and stood from her seat. They both made their way towards the clinic.

"Cuddy," he said, stopping her at the door. "Despite what you may think, I am happy for you." She smiled her thanks before exiting the room alongside him.

"Ethan," she said with a smile. She had been expecting him; they had made plans in the morning for him to take her to lunch. "This is Dr. Wilson, head of the oncology department and a friend of mine. Wilson, this is Doctor Ethan Kellerman."

"Nice to meet you," Wilson said, shaking his hand.

"Actually we met at a symposium in May two years ago," Kellerman said with a smile. Wilson's brow furrowed, showing he did not remember meeting Dr. Kellerman, though he had heard of him before. "I have a photographic memory," Kellerman explained.

"That's impressive," Wilson stated.

"And I read the paper you wrote on gamma knife radiosurgery. It was impressive."

"Thank you," Wilson nodded, then glanced to Cuddy, placing an arm on her shoulder as he told her had to get back to work and he said a polite 'nice to meet you' to Kellerman. Wilson made his way towards the elevator. Foreman was standing waiting for the elevator as well. They nodded their hello's. Wilson noticed Foreman had a file in his hand.

"That a case?"

"Yeah, I just got it from Cameron."

"You're taking it to House? Better be good. He's not in the best mood."

"As opposed to being his usual delightful self?"

"Just trying to warn you," Wilson put his hands up defensively and noticed Foreman was looking behind him, towards the front door. He turned to see what he was looking at and saw Cuddy leaving the hospital with Kellerman. He had his hand on the small of her back.

"Is that Ethan Kellerman? The neurologist?" Foreman asked.

"Yeah, you know him?" Wilson asked, as the elevator doors open. They stepped inside.

"I saw him speak at Princeton last year. He's done some really interesting work with degenerative brain diseases. Maybe I should get a consult from him. 25 year-old-patient presenting with what appears to be Alzheimer's."

"Well, it happens. It's rare but it happens."

"His brain scan revealed no signs of Alzheimer's. What's he doing with Cuddy? He lookin' for a job?"

"Nope," Wilson said, as the elevator doors opened. They said their goodbyes and parted ways. Foreman made his way to the conference room and he poked his head in House's office, where he was sitting at his desk, pensively.

"House, we got a case. I paged the team, they should be here shortly." House didn't answer him. It only took a few minutes for the team to come in, one at a time.

"We got a case?" Kutner asked, excitedly.

"I think so," Foreman said, knowing it wasn't really a case until House approved it. House still sat at his desk, clearly not seeing any reason to even inquire about it. "House! You gonna come in here?" Foreman asked, annoyed. House slowly stood and made his way to the conference room.

"Patient is a 25-year-old male, presenting with severe memory loss but all ruling out dementia and early onset Alzheimer's." He passed around copies of the patient's chart.

"We talkin 'I can't remember what I had for breakfast' or 'what's my name again'?" House asked.

"He couldn't remember 75% of the items on the memory test. His long-term memory loss seems to be fairly mild. He couldn't remember where he met his girlfriend or what she looked like."

"Symptomatic of being a bad boyfriend," House added. There was something obviously different about him but his fellows new better than to ask.

"He couldn't even remember why he came to the ER," Foreman argued.

"Head trauma," 13 offered.

"The patient claims he didn't suffer any trauma," Foreman rebuffed.

"He _claims_," House emphasized, bitterly.

"Why would he lie about that?" Foreman asked.

"Who can say why Jack would fall down and break his crown and lie about it?" He was saying the same silly things but House's usual playful tone was muted and masked by something else. "Maybe he wasn't fetching a pale of water after all. Maybe he was getting some fuzz from Jill. Then again, I assume if he's exhibiting symptoms consistent with Alzheimer's, he's not the most retentive guy. Is it possible he forgot, snoop?"

"He shows no physical signs of trauma," Foreman argued.

"You got this from Cameron?" House said, looking at the file. "I'm pretty sure you don't go the ER because you can't remember the first date you and with your girlfriend. So why'd he go? A headache maybe? Sounds like a sign of head trauma to me," House concluded, condescendingly. Foreman just sighed. "But just in case you're right, we should do a biopsy."

"Just in case I'm right? Since when do we test 'just in case'? And you want a biopsy of his _brain_?" Foreman laughed. "That's a little invasive this early on."

"Yeah, shouldn't we do a scan first?" Kutner asked.

"You're not gonna get over this idiot thing, are you? Already did a scan, remember?"

"Yeah but they were looking for plaques from Alzeimer's. Anyway, they wouldn't have missed the kind of severe swelling or intracranial bleeding that would cause this kind of memory loss," Foreman said.

"It could be Parkinson's," Taub suggested.

"Parkinson's would cause tremors before memory loss," Foreman responded.

"Some patients with severe depression have been documented with memory loss. Or it could be any number of psychological conditions," 13 offered.

"Get a full psychological work-up. Also, get me a fMRI." House moved to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" Foreman asked.

"I want a piece of his brain. I'm thinking I should check with Cuddy first."

"She just left. I think she's going to lunch with Ethan Kellerman. The researcher who works out of Princeton." House's face immediately dropped into disappointment. Foreman was curious but ignored it. "It actually might be a good idea to get a consult from him; he specializes in degenerative brain diseases."

"What- you're not enough of a neurologist, Foreman?" House challenged, but his heart wasn't in it. His eyes still looked off into space and his face looked sullen. "Actually, that might be a good idea," he said, thinking better on it. "Did they mention where they were going?"

"I didn't talk to them," Foreman said as House went out the door. Kutner jogged after him.

"You're supposed to be nice this week, remember?" Kutner said.

"Fuck off!" House shouted over his shoulder catching the attention of those around him. Kutner immediately cowered a bit, retreating back into the conference room.

"What was that about?" Taub asked, having heard House yell at him.

"Nothing," Kutner dismissed.

"It was about something," Taub insisted.

"Look, we should probably run these tests before House gets back," Foreman said. They all got up to leave the room but something clicked inside Kutner's head.

"Hold on, Foreman." They all stopped to look back at him. "Were Cuddy and Dr. Kellerman going to lunch, like, on a date?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Were they?"

"I don't know," He said, his eyebrows furrowed. "He had his arm around her," he added, sill wondering where Kutner was going.

"Oh." He had everyone's interest piqued. House went back on their deal; he figured he might as well spill.

"What do you know?" Taub asked him.

"Nothing," Kutner said, trying to seem casual but failing.

"Come on. It's something about House and he always pokes his nose into our business. Why are you protecting him?" 13 said, still bitter over House outing her illness.

"Well, it's something about House, Cuddy, and Doctor Kellerman." Taub said, seeing that Kutner looked as if he was about to crack.

"I don't know everything," Kutner began, a bit esoterically.

"Just tell us what you do know," Foreman said, eager for a little bit of payback.

"House and Cuddy," he began, chickening out half-way through the sentence.

"House and Cuddy are seeing each other?" Taub asked, taking a liberty. Everyone's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Apparently not anymore, if she's going out with the decorated neurologist." Kutner said, glad to finally have that weight lifted off of his shoulders.

"How did you find out that House and Cuddy were together?"

"I saw them making out," he said with a childish smile. They all were silent for a second, thinking about this situation.

"Great," Foreman said sarcastically, a realization coming to mind.

"What?"

"Looks like he's got another Stacy," Foreman said shaking his head with a laugh.

"Another who?" Kutner asked.

"Never mind, let's just get these tests done."

"So guys," Kutner began as they all stood to go out. "The guy's probably a little heart broken, maybe we should cut him a little slack." They all laughed at him before leaving the room.

Meanwhile, House was downstairs, approaching Cuddy's office. He opened the first set of double doors to find her assistant sitting there.

"Where's Doctor Cuddy?" House asked, sounding urgent.

"She went out to lunch," her male assistant answered.

"_Where_?" House asked, rapping his cane on the ground as he spoke.

"I'm sorry, I can't give out that information," the assistant said with a polite smile. He most likely felt vindicated after all the times in his short time working there that House had stormed by him defiantly as he tried to stop him from entering Cuddy's office.

"This is a medical emergency!" House said, frustrated.

"Look, Doctor House, Doctor Cuddy has instructed me not to give out her whereabouts to you specifically, no matter how you try to manipulate me. If you need something you can call her on-" House was already gone, marching through the clinic, working on his next idea. When it came to him, he made his way back to his office quickly. He sat down at his computer and once he found what he was looking for, he picked up his phone and dialed.

"Hi, I'm looking for a Doctor Ethan Kellerman," House spoke into the phone. "Thank you." He waited a few moments before someone else picked up on the line. It was one of Kellerman's lab assistants. "Oh he isn't? Can you tell me where he is? It's an emergency. Oh yes, it's very important." He listened as the young woman on the other end told him exactly where to find him. "Thank you," House said with a smile, hanging the phone up.

He opened the patient's file, wrote a brief request for the biopsy and closed it. Grabbing his cane, he stood from his seat and made his way back down the elevator and out the door to where his motorcycle was parked in his handicapped spot. It was almost getting to be too cold outside for him to ride his bike, but for the time being, riding helped him think and clear his head. Only his head was far to muddled to be clear at this point. A million irrational thoughts raced around, running into each inside his brain. He wasn't exactly sure he could walk into this restaurant without pulverizing the man with his cane.

When he arrived at the restaurant, he parked his bike in the handicapped spot, not displaying his handicapped permit and not caring whether he got a fine or not. He made his way to the door medical file in hand; walking inside he stopped near the entrance and glanced around. The hostess approached him. He waved her off, telling him he was "meeting friends". He said it with a vicious smile. His eyes scanned the vast dining room and when he spied them, he saw Cuddy laughing, unsuspectingly and Kellerman leaning in close to her. He furrowed his brow into a scowl as he approached.

"Wow," he announced. "Fancy seeing you here!" He pulled up a chair from an adjacent table. Cuddy groaned immediately upon seeing him and she looked to Kellerman apologetically. Kellerman didn't look surprised to see House in the least, not at all like last night. Cuddy must have spent the better part of their lunch briefing him about House and what he should expect.

"Phineaus," Kellerman addressed House. Cuddy smiled, remembering the reference from the night before. "Sorry, I left my severed head at home," he said to Cuddy.

"Ha!" House laughed loudly, catching the attention of those nearby. "He's funny," House said, leaning over to Cuddy. "A real keeper."

"House, what are you doing here?" She didn't seem surprised that House had managed to find out where they were. He was very cunning. Her voice was aggravated but certainly calmer than she'd been when he'd interrupted their date the night before.

"I need to cut out some brain," he said, handing her the file.

"This couldn't wait?" she took the file from him but didn't bother opening it, no doubt suspicious of House.

"Yeah, sorry Jim, I know you need an emergency brain biopsy, but the dean of medicine is busy pedaling her sweater puppies and is not available."

"What's the emergency?" She asked, opening the file, thumbing through it. "There're only ER reports in here, you haven't run any tests yet. Patient is admitted with symptoms consistent with Alzheimer's," she said, looking at the file.

"The patient is 25. And the ER ruled that out," this seemed to pique Kellerman's interests. He sat further upright in his chair to peer into the file of the patient.

"Is the patient exhibiting any motor problems?" Kellerman asked House.

"I'm sorry, this is a confidential patient file," House said, snidely. "Real medical doctors only."

"Yes," Cuddy answered Kellerman, ignoring House.

"Could be BSE." Kellerman stated. "Many cases of BSE are misdiagnosed as Alzheimer's or Dementia."

"Patient isn't suffering from seizures and the file doesn't say anything about motor problems," House said, annoyed.

"Doctor Cameron made a note here saying the patient seemed disoriented and had a slow reflex response." Cuddy stated, glaring at him.

"That indicates damage to the nerves not the brain. Seeing as how neither of you are diagnosticians, how about you sign off on the procedure and I'll be on my way," he lied. The look on her face showed a weakened resolve as he handed her a pen from his pocket, she looked down at the file, trying to find some way to object. She sighed, showing that she had given up and she kicked herself for appearing so weak in front of Ethan.

"Wait," Kellerman said. "BSE might not present with motor problems right away. I've looked at a couple case studies where mild amnesia was in the initial line of symptoms." Cuddy looked up at House almost triumphantly, closing the file and holding it out for him t take.

"I'm not testing the patient for mad cow. He exhibits no signs of-"

"I'm not signing off on this procedure until you do an EEG to test for BSE."

"You actually _want_ me to run a pointless test? And I thought _I_ was every patients insurance nightmare." Kellerman laughed at his joke, surprisingly.

"House, you don't even have any idea of what you're looking for. At least not one that you've mentioned."

"I think he's got a brain tumor."

"A brain tumor?" Kellerman laughed. "How did your ER doctors rule out Alzheimer's? Intuition? I'm guessing they already scanned the brain. I'm guessing you already knew that, you're smart enough. I'm also guessing this brain biopsy isn't the real reason you're here," Kellerman said with a knowing smile.

"I'm guessing that guesswork isn't your strong suit," House said flatly.

"House. Leave. Now." Cuddy warned.

"It's not mad cow!" he protested, catching the attention at people dining at nearby tables.

"We can have this conversation after you run the test!"

"653 people are alleged to have died from Alzheimer's in 1979" Kellerman began. "but in 2002, 58,785 deaths were recorded. You think that's just old people getting sicker? Many respected people in the scientific community, myself included, believe misdiagnosed BSE is the cause. I suggest you run that test."

"An MRI cannot resolve calcium so a calcified meningioma in his hippocampus might not show up as clearly on an MRI. And if the underpaid resident's doing the test were looking for plaques and tangles from Alzheimer's, they'd miss it altogether. A tumor would account for all of his symptoms." House stared triumphantly back at Cuddy.

"That's impressive," Kellerman said. "But that would be extremely rare. BSE is far more likely."

"Wanna make a bet?" House said, with a devilish smile.

"What are we wagering?" Kellerman asked. Cuddy looked mortified, out of the corner of his eye, House could see her cowering. House's smile just widened. "Let me guess, if I'm right, you leave us alone, if you're right, I back off?" House just raised his eyebrows, continuing to smile. "That's ridiculous," Kellerman said, looking to Cuddy.

"And it's not going to happen," Cuddy stated, angrily.

"Afraid you'll lose?" House asked him challengingly.

"House! I decide who I date. Not you and not him. Now get out of here and do that EEG! I'm not signing this!" She was angry, and reasonably so. House stood, looking down at Cuddy with a serious expression. He opened his mouth to say something to her, not sure what, but then glanced over at Kellerman who sat, looking expectantly for him to leave. House limped away and out the door.

"I'm sorry about that," she said, shaking her head.

"It's okay. You said that would happen, I was well prepared."

"He's not done."

"I wouldn't think so. He's got something to fight for." She shed her wounded expression and smiled at his compliment. "Like I told you before he got here, he's not going to scare me away."

"You say that now,"

"I mean it." He seemed sure of himself, which satisfied her.

The next afternoon, House came into Cuddy's office with a triumphant smile on his face, and a strut in his walk, albeit a limping one.

"I did a CT, an MRI and an EEG," he said.

"And from the smirk on your face, I'm assuming you were right," she said, looking down at a stack of files trying to seem busy.

"That makes two of us," he said, limping further in her office.

"And? What do you want House?" she didn't seem amused.

"I was right! I win. I'm smarter," he sounded like a first grader but he was only half serious, he honestly just wanted an excuse to talk to her.

"I'm not a prize, House," she said sadly, shaking her head.

"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself," he joked. She just sighed and opened her mouth to dismiss him from her office. "Cuddy," House began, stopping her from kicking him out just yet. Though he didn't know what to say next. She raised her eyebrows waiting for him to continue. "I'm sorry," he stated flatly.

"For what exactly?" she leaned back in her chair. "Would that be for hooking up with Wilson's assistant? For trying to ruin any future happiness I may have with Ethan? Or for just generally being a bastard every day since the day we met?" Her tone wasn't light or playful. She was not amused.

"Yeah, for all of that," he said with a nod, wrinkling his brow.

"It is too late." She spat out each word viciously. "I don't see what you don't get about that. I told you this before we started sleeping together: You don't just get a free pass to act however you want, or just say a quick 'sorry' and wipe everything away. It doesn't work like that. This is how grown up life is, House. Get used to it."

"Why are you so angry?!" He was yelling at her now. "Yeah, I fucked up. I'm sorry about that and it certainly wasn't worth the shit I'm getting for it now!"

"I'm not giving you shit!" She stood at her desk. "I don't want anything to do with you! How can I make that more clear?! You fucked up and now it's over."

"You were always so full of forgiveness before, no matter my indiscretion. You always thought I'd change, that I'd have the humility you'd always dreamed I would. You handled every fuck-up with the naïveté of a ten-year-old child!" He knew he was digging himself into the ground but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He was frustrated and this was how he was used to handling it. "And now, all of the sudden you're a hard ass? I don't buy it!"

"Get the hell out!"

"No! You have feelings for me but you're scared to admit it! You're afraid of what it would mean to be with a guy like me!"

"Get out!" She was sure the whole clinic had heard that.

"So you have to find the most polite little puppy in the litter- the handsome doctor your mommy always wanted for you- and make yourself believe you have feelings for him but you don't and you never will! Because I will always be here to remind you of your failure to admit to yourself what you really feel!" She felt the tears beginning to well up in her eyes again and she wanted to scream at him at the top of her lungs.

"Get out or I'm calling security to take you out," she tried to make her voice quiet, but it just sounded meek and quivery. She scrunched her face tightly trying to stop the tears from coming out.

"Go ahead. You think turning me down makes you stronger? You think you're standing up to me? But it just makes you the same scared, weak little girl you've always been." And she was standing there, looking like exactly that; a weak, cowering, little girl.

"I hate you." Her voice was cold, not shaking as it had been only a few seconds before. He could tell she meant it, or at least she thought she meant it. It hit him like a bag of bricks. She didn't deserve this. His features softened. She noticed it. She tried to pick herself back up, gather her confidence that he'd shattered to pieces on the floor. "No," she said then paused for a second. "I don't hate you." She watched his expression change to relief before continuing. "I've worked hard to become what I am and I didn't get here by being weak," her voice was firm.

"I know you-"

"I'm not done!" she shouted, silencing him. "For over ten years, I have been your baby-sitter, making sure you don't cause this hospital a lawsuit or kill one of your patients. I have played the bad guy, whose authority you undermine and whose reputation you do not respect. I have been your walking punch line, listening to you make wise cracks about my body. For a while I was your whore: I was there to satisfy your every need whenever you wanted." House looked down, ashamed. "And somehow I managed to pull all of that off without you even noticing that there is so much more to me than that. That I have a life that extends farther than you and your selfish little existence. But you don't care about that. As hard as your try, you can't _make_ yourself care enough. So you try to drag me back to you. And that is what I _hate_: that you can't ever be the person that I can let myself be with. This isn't an easy choice for me but you can't even see that. All you see is," she looked down for a second, thinking. "I don't know. I don't know what you see; we're too different," she said it like an epiphany had come to her. "You're not like anyone else. That's why I'm attracted to you. And that's why you'll always be alone." Her voice finished in a whisper and she could see that her words had wounded him and that surprised her. She hurt for him, but she wouldn't let that weaken her resolve.

As they stood there, staring at each other, a tear slipping down her cheek, the door to Cuddy's office opened, startling them both and they turned to see who it was entering.

"What the hell!" Wilson said in a loud whisper, closing the door quickly behind him. "I just got a call from Foreman saying I better get down here because he can hear you two shouting from the clinic!" Neither of them spoke, he saw House standing there like someone had just punched him in the face, and Cuddy standing there crying. "Are either of you going to tell me what's going on?" Cuddy sat down in her chair silently, House walked past Wilson, opening the door, he turned to take one last glance back at Cuddy before shutting the door behind him. Cuddy put her face in her hands, and leaned over her desk.

"Shit," she breathed.

"What the hell is going on between you two? I thought you would have worked this out by now."

"Were we really that loud?" she asked, her voice muffled in her palms.

"I wasn't here," he answered. "But Foreman mentioned he was coming in here to talk to you about something. It's possible he only heard because of his close proximity," he said, trying to console her.

"Shit," she said again.

"Really, I'm sure it's fine. The nurses didn't seem any more gossipy than usual-"

"No, not that," she said, looking up at him, her black make-up was running down her cheeks with her tears.

"Ah," he said. Walking to sit down at the seat in front of her desk. "House," he concluded. "What happened?"

"I don't know." She shook her head. "I don't know," she repeated. "He was yelling at me, and I was yelling at him and it got quiet and I told him I would never be with him and I just-" she cut herself off, trying to put some effort behind holding back the rest of her tears. She looked down at the neat stack of files on her desk. "I think he actually heard me that time."

"That's a good thing, right?" She looked up at him, her face red, her eyeliner smudged.

"I don't know."

"Well, did you mean it?"

"Yes."

"And he listened, that's good," he assured her.

"But-" Wilson scooted to the edge of his seat and he pulled a few tissues from her tissue box and handed them to her.

"But what?"

"When we were sleeping together," she began, then looked at him to make sure he was comfortable with the conversation. He seemed fine. Concerned, if anything. "I knew we couldn't stay together because he doesn't respect me and because we're so different and he's- he's an _ass hole,_" they both chuckled sadly. "But after a while, I started thinking maybe anything he would give me, maybe if it was all he could offer," she hesitated before admitting it out loud. "Maybe I could take it. Maybe even a small piece of him would be enough. And then that whole thing with your assistant happened and it was like a wake up call." She wiped her eyes with the tissue. "I was like 'he doesn't care about me at all'. And everything I was feeling, I just lost it. And I don't know what to believe. I don't know which choice was right." She blew her nose in the tissue. Wilson looked at her sympathetically, making sure she was done with her thoughts before speaking.

"Cuddy, I don't think either was _right_. But I don't think you should sell yourself short, either. I don't know the specifics of your arrangement, but I can guarantee that whatever he was offering wasn't enough and it wasn't _half _of what you deserve." She smiled her appreciation. "And things got complicated, as they always do, and you were right to end it."

"You think so?" she asked. He nodded.

"Friends with benefits? With House?" He laughed.

"It was stupid, I know," She said. "But the sex was amazing," she said with a smile. He held his hands out, wanting her to go no further. "I know, I'm sorry." They sat in silence for a moment. "So, what now?" she asked him, wide-eyed.

"I don't know, Cuddy."

"I like Ethan," she began.

"Cuddy, you know when it comes to House, I'm always on your side of the argument. He certainly doesn't need any help from me. But when it comes to deciding between him and Ethan," Wilson just trailed off. She understood. He was loyal to his friend in that respect.

"You should go to him," she said, imagining him by himself, brooding in the dark somewhere. Wilson nodded and stood to go, he made it all the way to the door before turning around.

"Cuddy," he let her name leave his lips and catch her attention before he paused and added. "House _does_ respect you, he just-" Wilson shrugged. "You know." She just nodded and he left her office.

That day Cuddy made her choice when she called Ethan and made another date with him for the weekend. He took her to his favorite restaurant, which was a Japanese place that she enjoyed. They talked about medicine and movies and everything she didn't have time for that he insisted she try and they rarely mentioned House. His name came up when Cuddy could tell Ethan was feeling insecure about whether or not she had completely moved on. She assured him she had and they moved right past it. They went out again and again for two more weeks and each night he would walk her to her doorstep and she would kiss him. Not once did House interrupt them. Even at work, House managed to keep their interactions strictly business, even though he had a somber way about him when they spoke, which did not go unnoticed by his team or his leg.

Cuddy took a very physical toll on him. House considered that to be poetic, he'd tell Wilson "Our relationship was purely physical, and so is the result." He felt that familiar burning and digging sensation in his thigh, feeling the surrounding muscle and flesh shiver and quake in agony. He'd stumble during a differential and his team would know and he figured Kutner had told them, though he didn't ever reprimand him. At one point, Foreman approached House, as if preparing something to say about it, but House cut him off at the pass, turning him away. Taub even went to him to try and give him advice, citing his numerous troubles with women almost as a degree. House merely pointed out that Taub wasn't exactly the expert, seeing as how he lost his career and nearly his wife over a woman and that would silence him. 13 would occasionally mention House's pining during a DVX, to get back at him for outing her illness. House let it roll off of him. Aside from the leg pain, and occasionally snapping at one of his fellows, he was pretty much the same guy. Not easy to get along with, but still the same ass he'd always been, finding pleasure in other's misfortunes and making wise cracks at their expense. But his leg just wouldn't let up.

Cuddy was cautious about adding any sexual aspect to her relationship with Ethan, having only recently gotten out of a purely physical relationship. One night however, he walked her to her door and she kissed him as usual. This time, she tugged at his lapels, pulling him closer to her, hungry for more before suddenly breaking the kiss and pulling away. Kellerman was in a daze, completely mesmerized by her.

"You want to come inside?" she asked. She had never fooled with House in her own home. She never wanted to have memories of him there, long after it was over. She wanted to be able to sit on her sofa without picturing some time that they'd had sex on it. She was afraid of being haunted by him. But Kellerman was different, she felt safe inviting him in. As soon as they were through the doors, she tried plying his clothes from him but he willingly slid out of his coat, absentmindedly reaching his hand out to hang the coat on her coat hanger. She just tossed hers at the foot of it. She pulled the tail of his button-up shirt out from where it was tucked under his waistband and began unbuttoning it. Underneath he wore a white t-shirt and she pushed it up and over his head. Her fingers went to his belt and she undid the buckle before his hands dove down and froze hers in place.

"Shouldn't we go to your bed? Or do you like it standing up?" He asked with a smile. She grinned and grabbed his hand, leading him into her bedroom silently. She was gentle with him at first, careful not to be too anxious and tug him but then she had to kick herself for forgetting that his leg was fine and she didn't have to be careful with him. She then pulled him into the room, not bothering to turn on the lights, and pushed him to the seated position on her bed, quickly resuming what'd she'd been doing in the other room. She undid his button and zipper and slid his slacks down his legs, revealing his light blue boxers. A quick flash of House appeared in her mind. He wasn't a boxers guy or a briefs guy, he did both and sometimes neither. She pushed House from her mind, physically shaking the image out of her head.

Cuddy's dress was easily removable; the only thing keeping the cotton dress on her body was a rope of fabric that tied at the waste. Kellerman untied it and she let it slide off of her arms and down to the floor. She stood before him in her lacy black underwear and he only paused for a quick second to stare at her in awe before grabbing her waste and pulling her onto him. When they were both on the bed, Kellerman rolled over on top of her and ducked down to kiss her. His kiss was slow and dry and she slipped her tongue into his mouth but he was slow at receiving it. Her hands went to the waste of his boxers and she tucked her thumb around the elastic band and started removing them. Kellerman used one hand as support to hover over her and the other trailed down her stomach and to her waste to remove her panties.

He guided himself inside of her and moved slowly. His hand went to her back and she arched slightly so he could reach the clasp of her bra, which he removed after fiddling with for a few sends. She smiled up at him. When the bra cam off, his mouth came down, and he was gentle. She closed her eyes and felt the slow, rhythmic rocking and the soft, romantic kisses on her breasts. Each move he made sent a rush of pleasure through her and she moaned slightly as she reached her arm up to wrap around the back of his neck. Her right leg wrapped around his waste and she immediately thought of the last time she and House had been in that position all those mornings ago.

Kellerman rocked on top of her, and while he wasn't able to anticipate her every desire, he was very attentive to her needs. His hand roamed her body, as his mouth kissed her neck. She could hear his heavy breathing.

"Lisa," he whispered into her ear. She was surprised by the use of her first name. She was used to House grunting her last name. She would always giggle when he did that. It made her melt to hear House say it like that. That memory opened a floodgate of images: On the hood of her car, on the top of the piano, in his shower, on his couch, in his bed. She thought she might cry. Her hand went to Kellerman's back.

"Ethan," she was careful she said the right name. She tried to keep her head in the present. She hadn't anticipated how hard the first time would be since House. Though she did suspect it wouldn't be easy, which was why she had been trying to move so quickly but Kellerman was moving painfully slow. He moved around inside of her and she rocked underneath him until the pressure built up, and she was relieved to feel that again. The release. She could hear him whispering her name. "Oh, Lisa" And she shut her eyes but all she could see were House's blue eyes staring back at her. Kellerman moved expertly as they both reached the climax and she came just before him, opening her eyes to see him, instead of House, but she saw only the side of his head, as his face was buried in her neck.

When they were finished, he plopped down next to her; they both stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily. He looked over at her and she turned to see him. He was smiling and she returned his smile. They moved so that they were under her covers and when they were settled again, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him. She willingly laid her head on his shoulder, taking in his smell, and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep.

Several nights later, they sat on her couch together, his arm around her, watching a movie. Some movie he insisted she watched excitedly which she found interesting but was having trouble focusing. The sound of the door knocking roused her from her complacency.

"I'll be right back," she told him and he paused the movie to wait for her. She got up and walked to the front door, bracing herself for the cold air that would rush in upon her opening the door. When she did open it, she found House standing there, bundled up with his coat, scarf, and hat. She was alarmed to see him and glanced behind her instinctively to make sure Ethan was still on the couch.

"Cuddy," he addressed her.

"What do you want?" her voice wasn't angry, just confused.

"I just came here to tell you something," he said, taking a quick glance to his right. He was nervous, she could tell.

"What is it?" She asked, suspiciously. He hesitated. Cuddy saw this and rolled her eyes, looking to her right to slip her boots on and she stepped outside, closing the door behind her. She was wearing sweatpants and a camisole top with a sweater over it but was quite freezing in the snowy weather.

"It's cold out," he said, "you shouldn't be out here without a—"

"I won't be out here long," she interjected. "What is it that you want?" He sighed.

"I just need to know that it's over." He said, looking her seriously in the eye.

"Of course it is, House. I'm dating someone else now."

"Okay," he said with another sigh. "I just wanted to give you a chance to take me back." She opened her mouth to object but he continued, "Before I tell you that I'm done. I'm done thinking about you; I'm done fantasizing about you, all of it." Her eyes widened a bit.

"Good." She swallowed hard. "I'm glad." He stepped in closer to her and lifted his hands to rub the sides of her arms. She started to pull away but enjoyed the sensation. She didn't see him lean in to kiss her, not at first. But she saw him with plenty of time to stop him but she didn't. His lips came down so lightly on hers, she wasn't sure he was actually kissing her. She could feel the warm breath from his nostrils against her face. For a second she could actually feel his lips on hers and she heard the light smack of his lips as he gave her one kiss before pulling away.

"Goodbye, Cuddy," he said, turning away. She heard the crunch of his boots in the snow.

"House," she called after him, careful to keep her voice low.

"Go inside, it's cold." He called back from over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn and look at her. She watched him go. He got in his car and started it. She opened the door of her house, walking up the one step to go inside, getting mostly inside before turning to watch his car drive off, disappearing from sight. She ducked her head back inside, closing the door behind her. She stood with her back against the door for a second before walking back to the couch and sitting back down next to him. He didn't even ask who it was, he knew. She snuggled into him, and he un-paused the movie.

xxxx


	10. L'Odyssée

Disclaimer: The House characters aren't mine, I don't use 'em for profit. They belong to FOX and David Shore.

A/N: So, this fiction is coming to a close. This isn't the last chapter. I might have two more after this. But I just wanted to say that I love each and every review I've received and they've been really encouraging to me. So much so, that as of right now, I plan to continue to write here, as my schedule permits. Whether that means a sequel to this story or a separate story altogether, I don't know. We'll see. But thank you to everyone who took the time to review and to tell me what worked and what you liked. I did take those things into consideration. And thank you to Pippa who has been my rock and my friend and, most importantly in this venue, my editor. Everybody wave hello to Pippa. Without her, this would not be possible. I love you, girl. Anyway, this is too long. I just really hope you enjoy this long, ridiculous chapter that was so much fun to write.

xxxx

Cuddy sat at the counter in Kellerman's kitchen wearing one of his large button-up shirts. Kellerman watched her blowing on her cup of coffee and his eyes traveled down to her bare legs, which had a golden glow in the warm sunlight of his kitchen. The image he saw before him was picture perfect and in that instant, scrambling eggs at his stove, he knew it was exactly what he wanted.

"I like this."

"What?" She asked, with her eyebrows raised.

"You here. Drinking coffee. Wearing my shirt." She chuckled.

"I like it too," she smiled warmly.

"I know this is irrational," he sifted the cooking eggs around in the frying pan with his spatula. "But I think I am falling in love with you," her eyes widened and she nearly choked on the sip she'd just taken. He continued before she spoke. "It's really soon, I know. But I look at you and I think: 'I could do this for a long time'. And I don't mean to put any pressure on you, you don't have to do anything but eat my eggs and drink my coffee. And have sex with me," he smiled. She smiled back at him; he was adorable: practically perfect. "And don't feel like you need to say anything back to me, my feelings aren't conditional or dependant on how you feel. I don't want you to just tell me what I want to hear so just-"

"Ethan," she said firmly, getting his attention. "I don't know how I feel," her voice was firm. "But I think maybe love is a possibility," she smiled coyly. "Down the road. Give me time." Her words seemed to satisfy him. They both settled back into where they'd been before the 'love' bomb dropped. Cuddy sighed into her coffee. When he looked at her she smiled.

"You want to have lunch with me today?"

"Oh, I can't today; I'm having a business lunch with Doctor Wilson."

"How about dinner?"

"Okay," she smiled.

xxxx

In the hospital, House sat at his desk and Wilson sat in an adjacent chair.

"House, if anything happens to my car-"

"I'm not making any promises." Wilson just sighed, sitting back in the chair in front of House's desk. House sounded a lot better than he had for the past few days. House stared into the almost completely faded purple and yellow bruising below Wilson's eye. The corner of house's mouth curled almost into a smile at the memory of how it got there. They sat in silence for a few moments until a shrill ring startled them. Wilson recognized it as the ringing of a cell phone. It came from one of House's desk drawers.

"Are you going to answer that?" He asked, confused.

"It's not mine," House shrugged. Wilson looked even more confused. House opened the drawer, taking the phone out and looked at the caller ID. "Ethan," he read with a smile.

"Is that- _You stole Cuddy's phone_?!" Wilson instinctively looked around, to make sure no one was nearby.

"Yep," House answered, pleased with himself.

"_Why_?" Wilson asked incredulously.

"So she can't use it," House said, as if this were obvious information. "I don't want her to be able to call for help." Wilson just sighed, leaning back in the chair.

"House, you better not screw this up. She'll never trust me again."

"That'll make two of us," House stated, silencing the ringing phone. They sat back in silence for a second before Wilson looked down at watch.

"It's about time for lunch," he said, standing. House simply smiled at him, watching him walk out of his office.

Wilson went to his office to retrieve his coat and scarf then took the elevator downstairs and walked to Cuddy's office. He opened her door, poking his head inside.

"You ready to go?" He asked her.

"Yeah," she answered, looking down, gathering several files.

"I'll drive," he said, opening the door for her. She nodded, grabbing her coat and following him out. "I'm parked in front," he said as they walked to the front door.

"Shit," she said, turning around once they were outside. "I forgot the list of oncology expenditures from last year."

"Don't worry about it," he said, grabbing her arm. "I've got a copy," she looked down at his hands in confusion. "My briefcase is in my car," he explained quickly. She nodded hesitantly and followed him out to his parking space. He unlocked his car remotely with his keys and walked to the passenger door and opened it for her.

"Thank you," she said eying him suspiciously. When she got in the car, he closed the door and she plopped her purse on her lap, and started sifting through the items inside of it. She heard the car door open and saw him slide into the car from the corner of her eye but was distracted by her missing item. "Shit, I think I left my phone in my office," she said, still rummaging through her purse. Then she heard the click of the locking mechanism and her head shot up to look at him and she was astounded to see House sitting there next to her.

"No you didn't," he smiled before quickly starting the car and screeching out of the parking space. It took Cuddy a moment to find her bearings and she turned around to see Wilson standing in the parking lot, getting smaller in the distance as they sped away.

"House!" She yelled, her eyes still wide with surprise. "What are you doing?!"

"We need to talk," House said calmly, turning the wheel as they left the parking lot.

"No we don't! Stop this car!" She was yelling and looking around frantically. "House!"

"We need to talk," he repeated.

"You said you were done, House. You _said_ you'd stop."

"That was before."

"Before what?!"

"Are you going to talk to me?"

"We _are_ talking!"

"_You're_ yelling," House said evenly.

"Oh my god," she said in an irritated tone. She slumped back in her seat. "This is kidnapping. You are kidnapping me."

"Maybe someone should call the police."

"I'm assuming you took my phone."

"Look, Cuddy, I'm not doing this to piss you off or to upset you. I just want to be able to talk to you without you screaming at me or running away."

"I don't run away, House. I'm not a child."

"I know that," he said sincerely.

"I'm not talking to you about this anymore, House. I'm not," she said shaking her head and crossing her arms.

"Fine, then just listen."

"Stop this car and let me out."

"Just hear me out."

"No! House, you can't just force me to listen or to talk to you."

"I'm pretty sure I can," he said with a sly smile. She let out a frustrated groan.

"House," she began, trying to sound calm. "If you don't pull over right now-"

"You'll do what?" He asked, not trying to sound antagonistic but merely trying to highlight the fact that all her efforts would be fruitless. She just sighed again, shaking her head.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Nowhere," he answered.

"House," she began warningly.

"Really, I'm not taking you anywhere. Just driving."

"You can't do this!" she shouted, her frustration returning. "I have a job, I have a meeting today, I can't just disappear for a couple hours, House."

"Wilson took care of all of that," House said nonchalantly. "You've had a family emergency."

"I can't believe you talked him into doing this for you. I am going to kick his-"

"It was his idea," House stated plainly, keeping his eyes on the road.

"What?" she asked incredulously. "Why?" House just shrugged. Though he had a feeling as to what the reason was. He thought back on when Wilson had approached him with the idea a couple days before in his apartment. He'd heard a knock on his door and was slow at answering it. He had taken more Vicodin than usual and had drank too much already, even though it was only eight. He answered the door in no mood for Wilson's usual load of analytical crap.

"You look like hell," Wilson had said, stepping into House's apartment. House didn't say anything; he had nothing to say. He wasn't himself. "You just going to drink yourself to death?"

"That's the plan," House said, turning to go plop back down on his couch. "She'll be so embarrassed then won't she?" he said, attempting a joke but it fell flat, his usual playful tone was gone.

"House, don't do this to yourself." Wilson had said firmly. "Don't do this to her."

"Fuck her," House's head fell back against the cushions of his couch.

"House," Wilson began again, looking at his friend sympathetically. He almost wanted to smile, seeing house heartbroken. It was nice to be reminded he had a heart. "You don't mean that," he said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I do," he laughed. "Fuck her and fuck him."

"House she's only-"

"I thought she was just trying to get my attention. Make me apologize or," he let the sentence trail off. "But she actually chose that guy over me," he laughed at his own misery.

"Because you acted like an ass," Wilson stated. House's head rolled lazily against the cushions to look at Wilson. "Look, House, I told her that leaving you was a good idea." Wilson looked down, feeling guilty. House's head shot up to look at Wilson.

"What?" House squinted at Wilson through the blur of his drunken state. "You did _what_?"

"I told her that she was right to leave you," Wilson repeated reluctantly, trying to think of the best way to explain before House became too irrational, but as he saw House rise to his feet he immediately began to step backwards away from his good friend. "House," he began calmly with his hands out defensively. He was backed against the piano. "I was just saying that-" Wilson's words were interrupted by the shear force with which House's fist met his face. He stumbled backwards against the large black instrument. House stumbled a bit too, too drunk to stand up strait. House fell backwards onto the couch and immediately reclined into a lying down position.

"Get out," House spat out.

"House!" Wilson said, his hand over his cheek bone, his fingertips assessing the damage. "She loves you." House became slightly alert but did not look at his friend.

"Oh yeah? On what do you base that astute assessment? Her dumping me?" House said sadly.

"Yes! She told me that before you fooled around with Amy she was getting complacent, that she was thinking she could be your-" Wilson tried to think of the best words. "-Your _fuck buddy_ if that was all you had to offer. That she would take whatever you would give her. But you being with my assistant made her realize that it was a mistake. That it wasn't enough. I told her she was right. It wasn't." Wilson's voice was excited but House's face showed that he wasn't following. "You being with my assistant made her realize how much she loves you. I think that scared her and I think she ran. That and she was also extremely pissed at you." House seemed to understand but didn't respond. "I was telling her that was right to want something else. You needed a wake-up call and she gave it to you. But you didn't handle it very well."

"And how was I supposed to handle it?"

"You were supposed to prove to her that you loved her. You were supposed to show her that she could take a chance on you."

"She started dating Ethan," he said his name mockingly. "She made it clear she wanted me out of her life."

"Did you ever once tell her you loved her?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because." House was too intoxicated to care if he sounded like a kid. "I don't."

"Don't," Wilson said angrily. "Don't even." Wilson didn't need to explain himself. House sat up on the couch. "Look at yourself. Of course you love her." House looked down at the floor. "But you couldn't even tell her that. Why should she stop seeing Ethan if you won't even tell her how you feel?" House sat thinking for a few moments.

"Well, it's too late now," he said, trying to sound casual, flipping his feet up on the coffee table.

"I don't think it is."

"She won't listen to anything I have to say," House said, still looking down. Wilson thought for a few moments.

"Then make her listen."

"Yeah? And how do you propose I do that?"

"I have an idea," Wilson smiled lightly.

Keeping his hand on the steering wheel, House reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out his bottle of Vicodin, he flipped the top up with his thumb and brought the bottle to his mouth, swallowing two pills. Cuddy watched him carefully, seeing how many he'd taken before turning back to look out of the window. House never answered as to why Wilson had helped him. They both knew why. Cuddy turned to look out of the window.

"Where are we going?" She asked him again, hoping for a different answer this time.

"I don't know," he answered. "But I've got a full tank of gas," he smirked. She sighed deeply.

"I really don't understand what you're hoping to accomplish with this," she said with her arms crossed. House sighed as well, knowing that he'd have to come to that eventually. It may as well be now.

"I love you." House said it with wrinkles in his brow and his head ducked down timidly. He held his breath waiting for her response. He glanced over to see her reaction. Her eyes were wide and twinkling in the sun and her mouth was slightly ajar. She didn't look at him. He glanced back to the road then back at her, he could practically see her heart getting ready too leap out of her chest and onto the dashboard, mirroring his own. She showed no signs of speaking and he turned his head back to the road permanently. They sat in silence for a moment.

"Okay," she said very reluctantly. "Will you take me back now?"

"That's it?" he asked, trying not to sound too angry.

"What do you mean?" Cuddy's brain was scrambling, trying to make sense of the situation and sort out how she felt about it. But in the meantime, she decided to stick to her guns, still annoyed at House's antics.

"That's what you wanted," House insisted loudly. "You wanted me to tell you I love you." She didn't know how to respond to that or if she should respond to it honestly. But she grew angry at his phrasing.

"So, you think it's that easy? You act like an ass and then say three words and I'm supposed to just jump you?" House was becoming increasingly frustrated with her.

"I can't change what I did."

"No, you can't," she said angrily, crossing her arms again.

"But I'm trying to do something about it now."

"By kidnapping me?"

"By telling you that I love you!" he yelled, sounding aggravated.

"And why couldn't you tell me that in my office or-"

"You wouldn't have listened."

"I would have listened a month ago," she insisted, becoming more irritated.

"Well, I'm telling you now."

"Well, its too late now!" she yelled, trying her hardest to sound like she meant it.

"Why? Because of _him_? You can't be serious."

"Why not?" She asked incredulously.

"It's only been a couple weeks."

"He said he loved me," she said wanting desperately to hit him where it hurts. House's face dropped immediately into one of disappointment. His features hung loose, his mouth slightly open. He kept his eyes on the road. Cuddy watched him, waiting for his response. She saw his face tighten; he was becoming livid.

"When?" He asked. The word spoken short and firm.

"This morning."

"He's pathetic," House laughed with cruelty in his voice.

"Why? Because he loves me?" She asked with a biting tone.

"He doesn't love you," House snarled.

"Why not?" Her voice was becoming louder.

"It's only been three weeks!" House yelled, his voice high like it often was when he was arguing.

"Yeah well it doesn't take everybody twenty years." She said angrily. They sat in silence for another moment before House's eyes grew wider with a realization.

"What did you say?"

"What?" she asked coyly, knowing exactly what he meant.

"What did you say when he told you he loved you?" he asked impatiently.

"I said it back," she lied. She regretted it as soon as she saw House's expression. It wasn't surprise but disappointment. He was quiet for a minute as his eyes watched the road intently.

"You love _me_," House insisted with a grumpy child inflection.

"House, just take me back to the hospital."

"Not until you say it." Cuddy laughed in frustration.

"I won't, House. Just turn around and take me back!" Her heart felt heavy, as if she was almost feeling physical pain just being around him. She had been near tears ever since he told her he loved her and she just wanted to get away from him.

"No." House said decisively. "Say it."

"House! Turn around now!"

"Nope."

"Don't make me hurt you." Her voice was serious but he just chuckled at her challengingly. And with that, her hand came down on his wounded thigh harshly, he grunted in pain as his hand shot down and grabbed her wrist. He tried to push her hand away but she persisted, using her other hand as well. He was at a disadvantage, having to also drive at the same time and she won over him and her hand went back to his thigh. She prepared to tighten her grip on it to torture him but hesitated, letting her hand rest on his scar and his hand on her wrist. She looked up at him, looking for something in his eyes to incite her to grip his leg and make him scream and stop the car but she couldn't find it. He was looking into her eyes and she felt like she could melt under his gaze, like she did only weeks before.

"House," she said softly. His eyebrows raised in anticipation of her next words. "Watch the road." She removed her hand from his lap and retreated back to her side of the car. She looked out the window where snow was beginning to fall lightly. He looked back to the road and settled back into his seat. "House, please." She said, pleading. "Don't do this." He knew exactly what she was referring to. It wasn't just about the car ride. The 'I love you' had stung her. But he didn't care. He couldn't care. He wasn't the type of person who could put up with short-term pain even if it meant long-term happiness, but he was trying to be that person for her. "House," she said again. But he ignored her. She sat back into her seat turning her head back towards the window and craning her neck so she had the back of her head to him so he couldn't see the tear of frustration slip down her cheek. She tried her best to hide it but he could tell.

They rode in silence for a while, until they had left the Princeton city limits completely. Cuddy had fallen asleep by the time they had left Mercer county. House glanced over at her a couple times, watching her sleep. Any doubt he had about her had been washed away when he saw her leaned against the glass, her makeup splotchy around her eyes from crying. He loved her. He felt better having said it but the sting of rejection pained his heart.

After the sun was starting to go down, he looked down to see that he was running low on gas. The best time to get gas would probably be while she was still asleep, especially since gas stations were becoming far more sparse as they ventured farther into unknown territory. It only took him a few minutes until he saw a sign that signaled a gas station at the next exit. He got off the highway and drove until he saw the bright lights and symmetrical pumps. He pulled in and hoped out, trying to make it fast. He pulled his coat tightly around himself, bracing himself against the cold winter. The snow was falling thicker now. He looked out at the encroaching darkness. He took his wallet from his pocket and slipped his credit card out. He slid the card in the slot and entered his pin number on the pin pad. He glanced back at Cuddy, seeing her stirring inside the car, he turned back to what he was doing and tried to go a little faster. After he pulled the pump from the slot he realized he didn't pop the gas cap open. He opened the drivers seat as quietly as possible and bent down to press the down the small lever. She stirred slightly but turned over and settled back into sleep. He closed the car door, and went back to what he had been doing.

As the gas began to pump he leaned against the car, thinking about how lucky he was that she'd been able to go to sleep for so long. It gave him an opportunity to get as far away from Princeton as possible. Now she'd have to deal with him. Now he had more time. More time for him to get her to admit how she felt. But he had to wonder why she'd been so tired in the first place. She wasn't getting enough sleep, he supposed. Which begged another question. He heard the sound of the passenger door opening, which interrupted his train of thought. He was alarmed and stood up to face her where she stood. She didn't say anything, just closed the door and came around to his side of the car. When she got there, she stood staring at him for a moment before leaning on the car next to him. They stood for a moment and her change in breathing told him that she was about to say something and he braced himself for whatever she was going to say.

"House," she began, her voice was tired and deep. Like it was in the mornings when they'd wake up in bed together. He almost smiled, hearing her say 'good morning' in his head. She took a few seconds to follow it up. "I don't know what to say. I don't-" she cut herself off, changing directions. "I'm sorry." She took a deep breath and spoke again, cutting him off before he could say anything. "I was so preoccupied with how you hurt me that I didn't-" she paused again, looking down at the pointed toes of her heels. "I didn't see how I was hurting you." House watched her intently. "And I never wanted that," she was beginning to cry again. She was almost angry with herself for it; he had made her cry more in the past month than she had in her entire life. But she couldn't help it now. She had seen him hurting over years and had felt guilty over that, even though it wasn't entirely her fault; she hadn't caused the infarction, she hadn't told Stacy to do what she did, she hadn't forced him to live from pill to pill. It hurt her to see him hurt like that. So much so, that she felt like she had built another place in her heart just for him and his suffering. And now, all of the pain he was feeling was her fault and the place in her heart was too full to ignore. She'd noticed him walking differently the past few days, in pain. She'd noticed him looking worse than usual; he had probably been up the night before drinking. All of that was her fault and she wasn't sure how she was able to ignore all of that up until now. Maybe she was just tired now. Too tired to keep the walls up that she usually hid behind. Whatever the reason, she was crying now.

"And I just-" she was feeling her words beginning to get caught up in her throat. He took a step towards her and he was standing in front of her. She took the opportunity to push off of the car and go to him. He wrapped his arms around her. He stroked the back of her head, letting his hands run through her hair. They heard the click of the gas pump telling them that it was done. She pulled away from him, wiping her face. "Where are we?"

"Pennsylvania." He answered, watching her eyebrows raise and her eyes bulge.

"What?" She asked, almost angrily. "Where in Pennsylvania?"

"Somewhere near New Albany." He said, thinking back on the last road sign he saw.

"And where the hell is that?" She asked, wiping her face again.

"It's in Bradford County." She sighed heavily, watching him take the nozzle out of the car and put it back into its proper place.

"House, why are you doing this?" Her voice was frustrated, though not really angry.

"I told you why."

"And I told you that it wasn't going to happen."

"Yeah," he answered, wondering if she really believed that. "You hungry?" He asked, realizing she must be starving.

"Not for Skittles and Tic-tacs," she answered, looking over at the gas station.

"What about Baby Ruth's and Circus Peanuts?" he asked with a smile. She only sighed in response. "Wait in the car," he said, nodding in the direction of the car. The keys were still in the ignition and the car was running; he'd left it on, not wanting her to get cold. She reluctantly went back to the car. Got inside and sat back down. House opened the back door and grabbed his cane, closed the door and limped of into the brightly lit gas station. The bell jingled when he opened the door.

"Can you tell me where I can get something to eat around here?" He asked the attendant working at the register. The man behind the counter thought for a moment before answering.

"Well, there's Lulu's down the road. Best burgers in the state." The man boasted, pointing briefly in the right direction. "But you won't find much else in the way of quality for a few miles."

"How do I get there?" House asked.

Cuddy sat in the car watching House talk to the gas station attendant, trying desperately to not even consider what House was asking of her. She wondered how far he would take this. He certainly couldn't just steal her and drive around the country for the rest of their lives. After a couple minutes, she saw House coming back to the car a with bag in his hands. He opened the door to the car and slid inside, tossing the bag on her lap. She opened it looking inside, listing off the items.

"A Baby Ruth, a bag of Circus Peanuts, Skittles, and some Tic-tacs," she smiled but quickly changed her face to appear more serious. "This isn't what you went in there for," she stated, disbelieving.

"No," he said, starting the car and pulling out of his parking spot.

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

"You'll see."

"House," she said, frustrated. "Look, I'm not going anywhere." He glanced at her for a moment before turning back to the road. "I'm certainly not walking home. So I don't see why you can't just tell me where we're going."

"To get something to eat," he said, as if it were obvious.

"You had to kidnap me and take me hundreds of miles away from anything I recognize in order for me to have dinner with you," she said, almost with a laugh

"Sad isn't it?" He asked, looking over at her quickly. She sighed and turned back out the window, watching the snow as it fell against the increasingly darkening sky. They drove in silence for ten minutes before House found the diner he was looking for. It was small and old fashioned with typical 1950's design and a pink neon sign that read "Lulu's diner" and a smaller sign just beneath it that read 'best burgers in the state'. He pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car, she followed him. There were four steps leading up to the restaurant and Cuddy climbed them and instinctively waited for him, hovering her hand out in his direction for him to take if he needed, but he never did.

House opened the door, letting her walk in front of him. Upon entering they saw the décor was pretty much exactly how they'd pictured: black and white tile, bright red leather booths, the waitresses wore the standard waitress button up dress, though perhaps much shorter and tighter than normal. They walked along the row of bar stools and found a nice booth against the wall in the middle of the restaurant. They slid out of their coats and sat down on either side of the booth facing each other. Cuddy looked around and was a bit fidgety.

"What's wrong?" He asked her, his eyebrows raised casually.

"You mean other than you bringing me here against my will?" House sighed before responding.

"Cuddy, this is like that time when we had sex on the hood of your car." She was alarmed for a moment, looking around to see if anyone in the half-full restaurant had heard that.

"_How_ is it like that?" she asked, angry at his having brought it up.

"Sure, I pushed you, but you could have gotten me off of you if you wanted. You know exactly where to hurt me," he said, motioning down to his thigh. "You had the right idea earlier but you didn't follow through. I'm assuming that's because you want to be here with me."

"Or maybe it's because I'm not sadistic like-" She stopped mid-sentence. "Yeah, maybe I wanted to be here," she answered quickly, looking around. He didn't buy it. He made a curious face at her. "I'm not fighting with you here," she explained. "In public. Half of the hospital already knows our business because the way we yelled at each other yesterday. I think I'd rather keep northern Pennsylvania in the dark on my personal matters."

"Half of the hospital already knew." He said, looking around for a waitress.

"Why do you say that?" she asked, alarmed.

"Kutner knows. If Kutner knows, everybody knows."

"How would _he_ know," she sat forward.

"He saw us that day at the airport," his tone was casual far more casual than hers.

"And you didn't tell me?!" she asked in a shouted whisper, leaning in closer.

"I didn't see any reason to. I made sure he wouldn't tell anyone. Anyway, you broke it off the next day."

"If you made sure he wouldn't tell anyone, how would everyone know?"

"Cuddy, does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters. I've worked hard to keep my personal business out of the hospital and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you had sex with one of your employees. In public, no less," he said with a smile. She opened her mouth to retort but the waitress appeared in front of them. She was a thin blonde with voluptuous curves and the top two buttons of her waitress uniform were unbuttoned, revealing the tops of her breasts. She looked a lot like Wilson's ex assistant. Both he and Cuddy noticed that and exchanged a knowing glance. Cuddy ordered eggs, coffee, and toast and House ordered a coke and hamburger, which- as he told the waitress, he expected to be superior to all other hamburgers in the region. The waitress walked away, shaking her hips as she went. Cuddy rolled her eyes at the woman's retreating figure.

"Jealous?" House asked Cuddy glared at him. "Don't be. Sure, her cup runneth over but no way does she have your ass." Cuddy shook her head, almost smiling. "So, why were you so tired?" he asked her curiously.

"What do you mean?"

"You slept for almost five hours in the afternoon. I'm assuming that means you were tired."

"I don't know," she shrugged.

"Not sleeping so well?" He asked, hoping she wasn't and hoping it was because of him.

"House, if I am not getting enough sleep, it's not because of you." She said, playing with silverware wrapped in the napkin in front of her.

"Oh it's because of _him_? Does he keep you up all night like I did?" House asked, becoming irritated.

"House!" Cuddy scolded in a whisper. "That's enough. I'm not talking to you about him or us."

"What if I give him a code name? Does 'malignant tumor' keep you up all night like I did?"

"Yes, he does," she said quickly, trying to shut him up the only way she knew how. "He's very good."

"Better than me?" House asked, clearly threatened. Cuddy regretted having even said it to begin with.

"House," she said with a sigh.

"Is he?" House's face was serious. If she told him the truth, she'd never hear the end of it.

"I'm not answering that so you might as well stop asking." The waitress walked over, bringing them their coke and coffee. Cuddy thanked her, House ignored her, staring intently at Cuddy.

"Fine. Just admit that you love me, and we can go home." Cuddy felt a heat inside of her that was probably making her face flush. She had to restrain herself from yelling at him.

"Maybe," she began, looking down and stalling. "Maybe if you'd said that before, I could have reciprocated. But the fact of the matter is; now it's too late. You made a mistake, I made a mistake and we can't always fix things. That's just the way it is."

"You're making this too complicated. Just tell me how you feel."

"I'm not the one making this complicated. You're the one who dragged me here, House. You're the one who refuses to take me home, effectively keeping me here against my will."

"Would you cut that out?" he said, annoyed. "I'm not keeping you anywhere. You like spending time with me."

"House, if you already know how I feel about everything, then why am I even here?"

"I didn't bring you here to figure out how you felt. I brought you here so you'd admit it." Cuddy sighed, widening her eyes in frustration. "And we're not going home until you're honest with me." Cuddy laid her head back against the seat cushion. They sat in silence for a couple minutes, sipping at their drinks. House watched her and Cuddy would occasionally look at him. '_I can't help falling in love with you_' came on over the speakers and serenaded them unobtrusively. She was becoming uncomfortable. Not because she didn't want to be there, but because she did. The natural feeling of his company startled her out of her complacency. The waitress returned with their food. Again, Cuddy thanked her and House ignored her. He waited for her to leave before speaking.

"Cuddy, it isn't too late," he said, leaning in towards her. She looked up at him and they looked at each other. "We can still," he trailed off with a shrug. "Whatever you want." She opened her mouth to speak but his words trampled hers. "Whatever you need." She wrinkled her brow with raised eyebrows. She was frustrated but didn't say anything. She watched him take a bite of his sandwich.

"How is it?" she asked, ignoring what she really wanted to say. He shrugged. He was too distracted to savor anything other than her.

"Want some?" she shook her head.

"I don't like ground beef," she said casually. He cocked his head to the side. He was sure he'd known that about her but had just forgotten. "You might have known that if you'd actually eaten out with me instead of-" she looked around before finishing. "Just fucking me all the time." She took a bite of her eggs.

"That's not true, we've eaten out," House said, suggestively wagging his eyebrows. She simply rolled her eyes at him. Truth was, however, House did regret not taking her out. "Anyway, I knew you don't eat hamburgers. I forgot, but I knew." he said, believing that was true. She nodded skeptically. House leaned over a little looking at someone behind her. She turned to see what he was looking at. "Doesn't he look like Wilson a little?" he asked.

"Who?" she asked, turning back to see. He raised his pointer finger, trying to be subtle. Her gaze followed to where he was pointing. As soon as she saw him she had to laugh. "Yeah," she said, her voice high as she laughed. "It's the eyebrows." House smiled at the sound of her laughter. He stared at her smile. He missed it. "I still can't believe he did this," she said, his smile fading.

"He thinks he's helping you," House assured.

"And he's not?" she asked, curious about his phrasing.

"He is. But he doesn't know that. He rationalizes it by saying he's helping you but I don't know that he actually believes that."

"Why wouldn't he believe it?" She asked, taking a bite of her toast.

"Because anyone being locked in a car with me for hours on end can't be good for them." She chuckled, nodding in agreement.

"Then why would he do it?"

"For me," he said simply. She wanted to be angry at that but she wasn't. She wanted House to be happy too. Realizing that again, she smiled at him sympathetically.

"House," she started, putting her toast back on her plate. "Are we going to be able to function together?"

"What do you mean?" He took another bite of his sandwich.

"The way I see it, the hospital needs us both. Are we going to be able to work together? Are you going to keep this up for the rest of our lives?" He shook his head swallowing his bite.

"Just until you admit how you feel."

"Just a few days ago you said were done. Or was that all just part of your master plan? Make me unsuspecting so it's easier for you to kidnap me."

"Maybe," he laughed. Not wanting to admit that it was Wilson who came and scooped him off of his couch and convinced him that Cuddy did love him and that it wasn't too late. He had better been right. She smiled at the sight of his smile.

"House, what if being with you makes me unhappy? Would you even care?" It was possible. Even when they were happy together, there was so much history and feelings between them that she was sure they could never be happy all of the time. They would fight, he would resent her, and she would resent him.

"Cuddy, Ethan is probably better for you. You probably wouldn't be too unhappy with him." She was surprised that he used his name and at what he was admitting. "But you don't want him, do you?" She didn't answer him and he didn't expect her to. They both went back to their meals. They continued to talk over the rest of their dinner. Mostly about useless things, she preferred it that way. At least while they were eating. When they were finished, House paid their bill and she stood, putting her coat on and waited for him to do the same but he was struggling. He shot her an embarrassed glance.

"Sometimes if I sit for too long-"

"I know," she said simply, offering her hand. He opened his mouth to refuse it but surprised himself by taking it anyway. She helped him to his feet and when he stood he was an inch away from her face. She didn't move away, just looked at his eyes, which she always found remarkable. He took the opportunity to lean down and kiss her. She accepted it for all of one second before pushing him off of her and turning to walk out of the restaurant, angrily. He put his coat on and followed her as quickly as he could but found it difficult, with the pain he was feeling in his leg, which in the wintertime, was especially bad.

When he got out the door he saw her standing at the car, she looked upset. He looked down at the four steps he had to go down to get to the car. He swallowed hard as he began to descend them. It didn't take long but he was wincing in pain, the last step must have been slippery because he tripped and fell, landing on his knees. As soon as she saw him go down and yelp in pain she was running to him.

"House," she said, her voice ripe with concern. She grabbed his arm to pull him up, onto his feet, but half way up, his foot slipped on an icy patch and tripped again, this time taking her down with him. She hit her knee hard on a rock or something sharp and they were both in pain. But she ignored hers. "House, are you okay?" He didn't answer. His teeth were clenched. He was frustrated, being confronted with his inadequacies, how he can never be normal for her. "House?" he just grunted in response. She reached her hand in his pocket, grabbing his pill bottle. She opened it, took out two and held them out to him. He took them from her and, swallowed them, quickly. "House," she said again. He sighed roughly. He was still on his knees with his hands buried in the snow. She instinctively moved her hand to his thigh and began rubbing it the way he showed her almost two months ago. She was kneeling in the snow, her legs only covered by the thin layer of cotton leggings. She rubbed his thigh hard and fast, he looked over at her and met her gaze. She raised her eyebrows and just said "House?" as if asking him if he was alright. He nodded. Just then, the door to the diner behind them opened and they turned to see who it was. It was a tall, thick, bearded man who was surprised seeing what he thought he saw. He continued slowly down the stairs, staring at them. Cuddy continued rubbing House's leg, albeit more subtly. When he got far enough away, he started to chuckle before getting into his truck. He didn't drive away. They couldn't tell because it was so dark, but he was probably still watching them.

House started, laughing. At first under his breath but he it grew louder, Cuddy joined him as they both started laughing, still sitting in the snow. Soaked and freezing and in pain. He pushed himself so that he was sitting on his bottom in the snow, continuing to laugh. She scooted closer to him, smiling.

"Can we get out of here, please?" She asked, looking up to the truck that still sat in the parking lot, spanning several parking spaces. House looked over his shoulder to see the silhouette of the truck driver still sitting in the cabin.

"Yeah," he said and she stood, holding onto his arm, pulling him up, this time she made sure her feet were firmly planted. He used his cane as leverage, keeping them both steady. When they were on their feet, she kept her arm around his, walking to the car door, playfully as if walking an old grandmother across the street. He smiled, shaking his head at her. "Thank you," he said sarcastically and he unlocked the car. She went around, and opened the passenger door and got inside. He put the keys in the ignition, starting the car. He glanced over at her before turning back to the wheel and driving out of the lot. They rode in silence for a while. The stinging in her knee eventually reminded her of her injury and she turned on the light overhead. And brought her knee up to her chest to better look at the knee.

Her leggings were torn and blood trickled lightly down her leg. House looked over at her, looking back to the road, where snow was falling more heavily.

"You alright?" he asked, glancing back to her.

"Yeah," she said ripping her leggings a bit to get a better look.

"Wilson probably has a first aid kit in the back."

"House, where are we going?" She asked, realizing he wasn't headed back in the direction of Princeton.

"I don't know," he responded casually. "You want that first aid kid?"

"No," she said, crossing her arms, dropping her knee back to the floor. She was frustrated and wanting very much not to wake up in Missouri tomorrow.

"That's a pretty nasty cut, you should clean it."

"And you should take me home." She looked at the clock and saw that it was a little after seven. She leaned her chair back and closed her eyes, realizing it would be pointless to argue. Getting hot, she slipped her arms out of her coat and laid on top of it

As she lay there with her eyes closed, listening to the sound of the car on the road, she began to get tired again. House noticed the change in her breathing; if she wasn't asleep yet she would be soon. They were traveling down a long stretch of dark road only trees as far as the eye could see. It was difficult to see in the dark, especially with the snow coming down in sheets. He drove for an hour that way. It was especially difficult to focus with House's thoughts constantly going back to Cuddy. He hadn't even noticed the last couple road signs because he'd been so distracted; he didn't even know where they were at the moment. But it was only a mater of time before he reached another sign and figured it out.

Then, what sounded like a loud gunshot roused Cuddy from her state of sleep. Her head shot up and she looked to House who was trying to keep the car from veering into a tree. The car slid on the icy road and spun out slightly, though House was excellent at keeping the car on the road. The car finally screeched to a halt and the two of them were left sitting with widened eyes, he was gripping the steering wheel tightly, she was gripping her armrest and part of the door. She looked over at him again, still in a state of shock. He looked back at her and simply let out a sigh.

"Flat tire," he stated, flipping on the emergency lights.

"Well, what now?" She asked, her heart still beating rapidly in her chest.

"Now, we call a tow truck," he said, taking his phone from his coat pocket. When he had it out, in front of his face, his expression changed to a more serious one as he hit a few buttons.

"What is it?" She asked.

"I don't have any service."

"That's just great," she sighed. "Well now what?"

"I'll be back," he bent down and popped the trunk and opened the car door and a gust of cold air came in. He got out and she followed suit.

"Is there a spare?" she asked. He opened the trunk and saw that there wasn't one.

"Nope." He answered.

"Why not?" she came around the back of the car and looked in the trunk with him. "It looks like he's prepared for every emergency _except_ a flat tire.

"Actually I took the spare tire out," she turned her head quickly to stare at him. "Well, I wanted there to be enough room in case I had to throw you back here." She relaxed a bit once she realized he was joking.

"I can't believe this. We're stuck here. Do you even know where we are?"

"Not exactly. It's cold out here. You should get back in the car," he said, realizing she didn't have her coat on.

"What do you mean 'not exactly'?"

"I mean I'm not exactly sure where we are. We're probably in Laporte. Get back in the car."

"Stop telling me what to do."

"Fine. Freeze." He looked down and saw the first aid kit and picked it up. "Here, let me bandage your knee."

"No, it's fine."

"It's not fine, it's still bleeding." He could see it in the red light of the car's taillights. "Let me fix it up and then you can yell at me."

"Fine." She marched around to the passenger side door.

"Get in the back," he said, opening the back door on the driver's side. She gave him a confused glance. "There's more room back here," he explained before sliding into the seat and closing the door once he was seated. He saw her hesitate before coming to the door and getting in the back seat. He opened the kit, looking down to see what he had to work with. Some gauze and other bandages: large and small, q-tips, small scissors and tweezers, and some weak pain killers and antibiotics.

"Gimme your leg." He said, motioning it over. She bent her left leg underneath her and sat on it and lifted her right leg over his lap, resting her foot on the other side of him. "Take these off," he sat, motioning to her leggings.

"No, just rip it." She said, knowing he just wanted less clothes between them. He grabbed a pinch of her leggings with either hand and pulled, ripping them all the way down her thigh. She rolled her eyes at how unnecessary that was.

He started by sterilizing the wound which fizzed and stung. Cuddy winced in pain. He dabbed her cut with a cotton ball, cleaning it. She jerked away but quickly moved her leg back into place.

"Stop moving," he chided. He never had patience for other people's pain, especially when it was nowhere near the pain he felt all of the time.

"It stings!" she hissed as he rubbed it roughly. Not merely to torture her but he didn't want it to get infected.

"You're a baby," he smiled at her.

"Ugh, I have to pee," she said, looking out the window.

"Well, there are plenty of trees to go behind."

"I don't think so." She said, watching the snow fall. "How's your leg?" she motioned with her head.

"It's okay. Your cut's fine but you're gonna have a nasty bruise," he concluded, peeling a bandage from the rapper and carefully placing it over her cut. He gently used his pointer finger to glide over the top of the bandage, attempting to make it stick better. His finger softly slid around her knee and she looked down to see him as his finger left the bandage completely and roamed down the smooth skin on her thigh, where her leggings were torn. His fingers eventually came to a place where they had to either stop or slide under her leggings to go any further. He chose the latter and simultaneously leaned forward to kiss her. His lips met hers and his hand plunged to the center, where her thighs met each other. She gasped into his mouth as he stroked her. His tongue venture in her mouth and, for a moment, she accepted and stroked impatiently it with her own. It didn't taker her long to change her mind a pull away from him, grabbing his hand and removing it between her legs.

"Stop it! Stop doing this!"

"You keep kissing back!" he argued. "You want me to kiss you." She rolled her eyes and opened the door, getting out of the car. He did the same. "Cuddy, get back in the car, it's too cold out here."

"House, just-" She was so frustrated she couldn't even think of anything to say. "Just stop! I don't want you!" She yelled, standing in the middle of the road, which was dark except for the flashing emergency lights.

"You do. I know you do! You kiss back."

"I want to kiss you," she admitted. "Sure. And maybe I want to fuck you." She tried to make her phrasing as impersonal as possible. "But that's it. I don't love you!"

"You're full of shit!" He said, accusingly. "You love me."

"I don't." She turned away and shivered.

"Put your coat on." She stomped over to the passenger side of the door, opened it, grabbed her coat out and put it on in jerking motions. "Just admit it."

"No! I'm not telling you that I love you after you kidnap me and get us stranded in the middle of nowhere with no cell service!"

"So you won't admit it out of spite? That's class."

"Oh shut up! You don't know everything."

"True. But I know you love me."

"Would you cut that out?"

"Not until you admit it!"

"House, what are we going to do? We need to start thinking about that, not your petty, childish attempts for love."

"Just tell me the truth and we can-"

"I have but you won't listen."

"That's not the truth. "I don't deserve it, but for whatever reason, you love me. Just say it. Admit it." She opened her mouth to yell at him some more but closed it again and hesitated before speaking.

"You are so stubborn," she huffed.

"So are you," he smiled.

"House," she sighed. "Does the answer really matter? It won't change anything." He didn't seem happy with that but persisted.

"Just say it." he said more quietly, stepping closer to her. He saw the layer of snow peppering her large, dark brown curls.

"Fine," she said almost angrily. "I love you. I have for a very long time." Her voice juxtaposed what she was saying. House smiled slightly, with one corner of his mouth. Though he was never completely happy about anything. If it wasn't one thing it was something else. "But we can't be together," she reminded him.

"Why not?"

"House, you said if I told you -"

"Fine," he answered, frustrated. "We know there's a town about 50 miles back that way."

"Don't you have a map? Or did you take it out because you didn't want me to find it, jump from the car while it was driving down the highway at 60 miles per hour and use it to navigate my way home?"

"Something like that," he admitted. She groaned.

"This is just great!" she threw her arms up in the air. "We've been here a half hour and not one car has driven by."

"I got on 80 to 380," House said, talking mostly to himself. "Then I got on Highway 6. So we're definitely in Sullivan County." Cuddy just groaned again and went back to sit in the car, where it was warm. House stood out in the cold for a minute, trying to figure things out. He finally walked over to the car, opening the door and leaning down to talk to her.

"I think I figured out where we- what's wrong?" She was bent over and had her face buried in her hands. "Cuddy?"

"Nothing." Her voice was muffled.

"Okay," he said, skeptically. "Well, I think we should start walking in that direction, he pointed in the direction they had been going.

"What?" she said incredulously, looking up with red, wet eyes. "You want to walk for who knows how long in the freezing cold with a bum leg?"

"The gas station attendant said the next gas station was in Duporte, which we passed-"

"Can you close the door?" She asked, angrily. He mumbled, getting in and shutting the door behind him.

"We passed Duporte an hour ago so we should be only a couple miles away from Laporte. And, who knows, maybe I'll get cell service somewhere down the road."

"Fine, you go, but I'm not joining you," Cuddy said bitterly. "I think we should wait."

"You just said a minute ago-" he stopped midsentence and winced, clenching his teeth at the worsening pain in his thigh. "-that no one has driven by in a half hour." He reached into his pocket and took out two pills, and saw that his bottle of vicodin was almost empty. He didn't seem concerned.

"I'm assuming you have another prescription with you," she said with her eyebrows raised. He nodded and she seemed relieved.

"How about we wait here for a while longer, then go." She nodded in agreement. "Cuddy," he began, getting her to look at him. "I do love you." It had become easier to admit it after he had said it once already. What he was so afraid to believe before, he was now desperate for her to believe. She didn't respond. "You don't believe me?"

"I believe you. But, House, you just don't-" she tried to find the right words to explain. "I can't," she said shaking her head.

"Why?" He tried not to sound invasive or like he was pushing her, but he couldn't help it.

"Because," she stated, as if that were an answer. She shook her head again. She looked up at him and his eyes were probing, imploring her to explain further. "Because, House. I love you but I," she continued shaking her head. "I can't be with you." still not really an answer.

"Why not?" he asked, this time with more urgency.

"Because, you scare me, House," she confessed.

"What?" he asked, completely floored. "You're afraid of me? You think I'll hurt you?"

"Not physically," she answered.

"Cuddy, the thing with Wilson's assistant was a mistake. I didn't even want it to happen. It was a mistake. I didn't mean for it to hurt you."

"That's not what I mean. I'm scared to be close to you." House still didn't completely understand, but he was beginning to. Cuddy tilted her head sympathetically at the look on his face. He opened his mouth to ask her to explain more but a bright light came down the road and washed out the color in the car. Cuddy held up her hand to block out the blinding light. House squinted at the light that became slower as it approached until it came to a complete halt. It was high off the ground, so he figured the light must belong to a truck.

"Stay here," House instructed.

"House," Cuddy started to protest but House was getting out of the car anyway.

"I'll be back," he said just before closing the door, silencing the loud rumbling of the truck's engine. House walked to the truck, through the thick falling snow, unable to see who it was behind the wheel. As he approached, he heard the door to the driver's side of the truck open. He heard the crunch of the snow as the driver plopped down from the cabin of his truck. House saw the tall, thick silhouette of the driver come around to the front of the truck.

"Engine trouble?" Asked a deep voice.

"No, flat tire." House responded.

"You call for a tow?" The man asked.

"No reception," House said. House heard the door to the car open and turned to see Cuddy getting out. House, annoyed that Cuddy hadn't listened to him, turned back to the man to see him pause, staring at Cuddy who, in the light coming from inside the car, had a pretty glow to her. It disappeared after she closed the door and she faded into darkness before coming around to the driver side of the car to stand next to House. "I told you to wait in the car," House scolded.

"Please," Cuddy scoffed. House wasn't sure why he had, all of a sudden, a vested interest in where Cuddy was. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be protective of someone. "Hi, I'm Doctor Cuddy," Cuddy went to shake the man's hand. "This is Doctor House." The man took her hand. House took a few steps, to stand near Cuddy. The man reached out his hand and shook House's as well.

"I'm Frank." The man responded. Cuddy was close enough to see the man's thin lips stretch into a long smile as he looked at her. He looked down to see her torn clothes. "You alright?" he asked her, eying House suspiciously.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you for stopping. Do you think you could help us call a tow truck?" She asked.

"I can do you one better. The motel I stop at on my route has a car service. I can take you there." Cuddy turned to look at House. He didn't seem too happy about the idea.

"No thanks, we're fine."

"It's really no trouble. You'll have to squeeze in though. Unless you wanna ride in back with all my cargo."

"I _said_ we're fine."

"House!" Cuddy hissed, shooting him a glare. "You're the one who got us into this in the first place. We don't have very many options," she said quietly to him. She then turned back to the driver. "Thank you, that would be great. How far did you say it was?"

"Just a few miles," Frank answered, looking up the road. House and Cuddy followed his gaze to see only rows and rows of trees into the shadowed horizon, which was covered n a veil of falling snow. "Hop in," he said, turning back to his truck, taking a few steps before turning back around to look at Cuddy. "You ride in the middle," Frank insisted. Cuddy turned to look at House.

"No," House said, firmly. "No way. You're not-"

"House, riding in the middle can't be good for your leg. Let's just go," she walked to the door of the truck.

"Cuddy," he tried to protest again but she opened the door to the truck, climbed the step and went inside. House turned around to get his cane from the back seat of the car, he also grabbed her purse, which she'd forgotten.

Upon entering the truck, Cuddy had seen a shotgun lying across the passenger seat. Her eyes widened and she instinctively let out an "oh."

"Don't, you worry about that," Frank told her, taking the gun and putting it in the space between his seat and the driver's side door. "My line of work can be dangerous. There's a lot of money in robbing trucks and selling the cargo," he explained. She just nodded hesitantly before sitting down.

"That your husband?" Frank asked Cuddy as they sat waiting for House.

"Yes," she answered quickly without thinking. He looked down and suspiciously eyed her empty ring finger. "We take our rings off when we travel, just in case." She knew that was a lame excuse so she tried to distract him from thinking about it too hard. "So, do you drive through here a lot?"

"Every so often."

"What do you carry?" She turned to see House climbing up the step. She leaned over to help him up.

"Oh be careful, honey." She raised her eyebrows at him, so that he would understand where she was going.

"Oh, you know I'm always careful, Baby." Cuddy rolled her eyes at how much he enjoyed saying that.

"Thank you," she said, after House plopped her purse onto her lap.

"How long you been married?" Frank asked. The loud hiss of the engine, signaling their departure.

"Oh," she said, looking to House. "Five years," she answered. "Are you married?" She asked the man, unable to see his left hand.

"Divorced," he answered. "It's hard to keep a steady woman with this job," he explained. After riding for a few moments in silence the man spoke again. "Hey," he said abruptly. "Ain't you the couple from the diner?" he asked. They then immediately recognized him as the man who had seen them on the ground.

"Oh, yeah." Cuddy answered, regretting having admitted that immediately after.

"You're kind of kinky, huh?" He asked her. Cuddy's head shot over to House, who looked satisfied at her awkwardness.

"It wasn't what it looked like," she assured him.

"It's alright," Frank said. "I see all kinds of crazies on my route. I been doing this for nearly twenty years. I've seen lots of strange people. None of them as pretty as you." House was almost laughing at her, watching her squirm.

"Thank you," House responded jokingly.

"I was talking to the lady," The truck driver sounded offended. "So where you comin' from? Where you headed?"

"We're from New Jersey. We're going to," she hesitated, looking to House.

"We're going to the mushroom festival," House said with an excited smile.

"Well, that's in Kennett Square. And in September. Where you really headed?"

"Official doctor business," House answered, beginning to get annoyed with the man.

"What hospital you work at?"

"The one where they don't end their sentences in preposition's."

"What?" Frank asked, not understanding but getting the feeling he was being insulted.

"Princeton Plainsborough," Cuddy stated quickly.

"Oh in Princeton? I traverse that area." Cuddy regretted relenting that information.

"Is 'traverse' on your 'word of the day' calendar?" House insulted Frank again.

"Excuse me?" Frank asked, developing a strong dislike for this man he was transporting.

"House!" Cuddy chided. "I'm sorry, it's been a long day and he's tired." She looked over him and glared. "And in pain," she added.

"I'm not in pain, I've got enough narcotics to knock out a horse."

"You a junkie?" Frank asked him with disdain.

"No!" Cuddy answered immediately, trying to quell the tension. "He has a medical condition." She looked at House warningly.

"Well, it's very gen'rous of you to be married to a man like that," Frank said, looking forward, the chubby knuckles of his hands wrapped firmly around his large steering wheel. Cuddy squeezed House's healthy thigh to keep him from commenting.

"She is," House said simply, looking to Cuddy. He smiled down at her affectionately.

"A drug addicted cripple with an attitude problem," Frank said, perhaps concerned that he'd been too subtle before.

"Yes, he's a handful," Cuddy conceded.

"More than a handful," House said, smiling at her suggestively. She rolled her eyes with slight smile. He took that as an affirmation of his endowment.

They rode a ways in silence. They passed a couple gas stations where House had predicted they would be. It would have taken maybe thirty minutes to walk. Twenty minutes had passed while driving and House and Cuddy became suspicious about the time Frank had said it would take to arrive at their destination. She glanced up at him with a concerned expression. House reached up his hand and ran his hand across her cheek comfortingly. She leaned her head into him, tucking her head under his chin. He ran his hand though the hair on the back of her head. She tucked both her hands between his legs, not sexually, but because it was warm there and it was cold in the truck. Frank was probably used to it. House knew she didn't mean it sexually but he couldn't help but hope she was coming around. He closed his eyes, smelling her hair. He missed the smell more than anything. Her fruity, girly shampoo was a nice juxtaposition of the must of the truck cabin. House felt Cuddy jerk a little from under his chin and he opened his eyes to see why. He looked at her to see her looking down at her lap where Frank's hand rested on her knee. House opened his mouth to say something but Cuddy, remembering that Frank is armed, reached her hand up to put a few fingers over House's mouth. She tried to move from under his grasp but Frank held his ground.

"Hey!" House said ignoring her. "What are you doing?" Frank didn't answer him. "Get your hand off of her." Frank kept his hand there, even moving it up her skirt a little. Cuddy squirmed under his touch.

"House, it's fine," she insisted, eyeing the shotgun to his left. "Frank, could you please-"

"It's not fine," House interrupted as he pushed Frank's hand off of her. Frank's other hand went to his gun, merely adjusting it so it sat more upright. Perhaps he just wanted House aware of its' presence. House's eyes widened upon seeing it and he stopped talking. But Frank didn't touch Cuddy again. He didn't even look over at her again. Cuddy considered that maybe he was ashamed that he'd been so desperate to reach out and touch a stranger. Maybe he'd gotten the wrong idea from what had taken place in the parking lot of the diner. She felt bad for him. House, on the other hand was livid, but had been shot once before and knew better than to bug Frank again, at least not until he put his hands on her again. Cuddy rested her head back on House's shoulder, moving closer to him to put some distance between her and Frank. House wrapped his arm around her. A couple minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the motel.

"Here we are," Frank said, parking the large vehicle and hopping out, without even looking at them. Frank made his way quickly to the front desk o the motel as Cuddy and House got out of his truck.

"Jesus," Cuddy sighed. "That was awkward."

"I thought he was going to shoot me," House said with a relieved laugh.

"Well you deserved it, the way you treated him."

"I deserved it? He's a sexual predator: he was fondling you."

"He's just lonely. He's harmless," Cuddy said looking over at him through the window, talking to the manager at the front desk.

"Cuddy he had a gun. A _big_ gun."

"Yeah, for protection. He was embarrassed. House, you just can't treat people however you want." House sighed and offered a "yeah," in agreement, realizing he couldn't afford to highlight his inadequacies at the moment.

"Come on," he said, putting his arm around her back to lead her to the car service area. It was a small, one room garage with dirty glass windows letting the bright fluorescent lighting paint the surrounding snow a stark yellow. They saw someone working inside through the windows. "Excuse me." House said, knocking on the glass.

"We're closed." The man said dismissively, only glancing once in their direction. Cuddy sighed in disappointment.

"Hey, we need a tow!" House said, looking at his watch, seeing that it was only nine.

"We're closed!" The man shouted, not even looking at them.

"House," Cuddy said, pulling on his arm. House turned to look at her. "He's you as a mechanic," she smiled. He smiled back at her before turning back to the man working inside to yell at him some more. "House," she got his attention again. "He's not going to help us. The way I see it, we've got two options. We find a phonebook and call someone else, or we stay here." She turned to look at the row of unappealing looking motel rooms. She was hoping he'd pick the phonebook option.

"I say we stay here!" he said, almost excitedly. He grabbed her arm and started leading her in the direction of the check-in desk.

"House, you can't be serious."

"Hey, you suggested it."

"I was hoping to appeal to your sense of responsibility over Wilson's car." House laughed at her. He wasn't going to pass up a chance to sleep with her. Even if all they did was sleep. He just started walking in the direction of the motel again.

"House, I'm not staying in a sleazy motel room. And I've only got the clothes I'm wearing."

"You can wear my shirt."

"House, I'm not sharing a room with you."

"Yeah and what happens when the creepy, predator truck driver sneaks into your sleazy motel room in the middle of the night, huh?"

"Right, like you could protect me anyway," she said, glancing down at his leg. Her words seemed to sting him, but he let it roll off of him, like most other things.

"Come on, let's get you out of the cold," he said, ignoring her previous comment. He limped off in the direction of the front desk, Cuddy followed. When they entered, the bell attached to the door rang out, signaling their arrival. Frank was still in the room, conversing with the manager, who he seemed to know.

"Hi," House said, playing nice. "We'd like a room." Then he turned to Cuddy. "Right, honey? Just one?" She glared at him. "She's old fashioned," he explained to the manager, jokingly. The manager looked at her expectantly for an answer.

"Yes, just one." She answered, looking at Frank out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her closely.

"I can upgrade you to the honeymoon suite for just five dollars,"' the manager said.

"Fancy!" House spoke with faux excitement. "It's a deal." He took out his wallet and paid the man.

"Come on, sweetie," House said, taking her hand and leaving the room to go back outside. She pulled her hand away form his and walked beside him. They walked along the sidewalk, lined with doors and lights in glass boxes positioned next to each large, metal, room number. House looked down to see the number 16 on the door key and walked all the way down to the sixteenth door. Cuddy stood impatiently as he unlocked it.

"Should I carry you over the threshold?" He said in a goofy voice. She smiled but ignored it as he pushed the door open. He closed it behind them. Cuddy looked around, seeing the condition of the place and making a disgusted face.

"This is gross," she said, flipping on the light and looking around at the stained and faded yellow and green striped wallpaper.

"Very 70's," House stated and looked around at the wooden walls and brown carpet and the brown and burnt orange striped bedding. There were two old chairs with faded floral cushions that looked like you could catch something from sitting in them. There were two, forest green beaded lamps on either side of the bed on dark, wood painted plastic nightstands. There was a plain white out-of-place lamp sitting on top of another small table next to the chairs that had a built-in ashtray with ashes still in it. They took off their coats and threw them at the end of the bed.

"Classy," she stated, looking at a broken mirror that hung on the wall over a dresser. Then she looked over at a cheap flea market painting of a bowl of fruit. "I can't believe I ended up here," she said, shaking her head. Then she looked at the bed. "I'm not sleeping in that. It's probably filthy."

"Hey I paid a hefty sum for this room, you better enjoy it." She laughed at him and his five extra dollars. "Just imagine what the other rooms look like."

"House," she said, catching his attention as he lifted the blanket to inspect underneath. "You should know, I don't plan on having sex with you. I really just want to keep this as platonic as possible." House just chuckled at her. "What?"

"Sure," he said. "You still have to pee?" She didn't even want to imagine what the bathroom looked like.

"Yeah," she said, walking slowly over to the room with a sense of foreboding.

"Hurry up. I have to go too." She opened the door, and peered inside. It was pretty much how she'd imagined. Light brown tile, beige toilet that may or may not have originally been white. There were rings around the shower/tub which was veiled half way with a stained shower curtain. She looked over at the rust stains in the sink and sighed. There was the same copy of the fruit painting as in the other room. She closed the door behind her and she lifted the toilet seat up with her shoe and attempted to sit without actually touching the seat.

House sat down on the bed and heard the sound of the springs in the mattress going berserk as the mattress bent. He opened the drawer at the bedside to find it empty.

"What kind of motel is this? They don't even have the word of the Lord handy for those all too common god-fearing motel goers! Blasphemous." He heard the toilet flush and the sink running and a minute later, she came out, having taken her ripped, bloody leggings off. House unbuttoned his button-up shirt, Cuddy watched him cautiously as he did so.

"House," she said, concerned that he hadn't understood her before. He was wearing a t-shirt underneath and when he'd taken off his button-up, he threw it at her.

"Thought you might want it to wear," he said, passing her to go to the bathroom. She sighed, looking down at it. She took off her blouse and unzipped her skirt and undid her bra, tossing them all into a chair. She put his shirt on, buttoning it just enough so that her breasts weren't visible.

"So, which one of these 'bowl of fruit' paintings do you think is the master copy?" he asked from inside the bathroom. She laughed at his joke.

"This one," she said, looking at where it hung, crooked, on the wall. She walked over to straighten it. She heard the toilet flush, then the sound of running water.

"Nah," he said when he opened the door. "I'm going to have to go with the one in the water closet." He stopped talking when he saw her standing there in his shirt. The sleeves all the way down to her fingertips the tail of it just below her panties, revealing her perfect legs. Her hair bounced playfully below her shoulders, her bangs were swept to one side, seductively covering one eye. She brought her hands together nervously fidgeting. He crossed the room, quickly limping without his cane. She stood there, waiting for him to reach her and when he did, her hands shot up to grip the sides of his face and bring his mouth to hers. Their tongues collided then mingled and stroked, desperately fast. She pulled his face to hers harder and harder missing the taste of him, missing the feel of his stubble on her hands and the feel of his mussed hair as she ran her fingers through it. Her hands roamed his body, feeling his chest under his shirt. He put his hands under the shirt that she was wearing, running them quickly across her smooth stomach. He sighed heavily with satisfaction, just being able to touch her like that again. His hands found her breasts, his thumbs ran over them, his other fingertips danced over them. He resisted the urge to pull and grab with the desperation he felt.

She moved her hand to his pants, undoing his belt and his zipper and reaching her hand in his pants. Once she found what she was looking for she gasped with urgency and she tugged and stroked and licked his lips until he was hard and she pulled it positioning it in front of her and he pulled down her panties and he was inside of her. She wrapped one leg around his ass, and pulled on his t-shirt with one hand and the back of his neck with the other. He had one hand against the wall and the other hand roamed her body as they pushed and banged the wall loudly. He grunted and she screamed with every powerful move that sent her crashing into the wall behind her. He was mindful not to hurt her as he let his arm cushion the blow, knowing he would have a bruise there later.

She moaned into his mouth and said his name over and over until all the pressure that built up inside of them exploded and she felt him rush and spill inside of her and he felt her tighten and relax. They breathed heavily into each other's mouths for several seconds. But suddenly she stopped breathing altogether. He noticed this and before he could ask her what was wrong, she was pulling up her panties, pushing him off of her, and moving quickly into the bathroom. She shut the door behind her but the lock was broken. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and stared blankly, feeling a heavy weight pulling on her heart. It felt like shame. She look in the mirror, hating what she saw but not shying away from it. She heard his gentle knocks at the door.

"Cuddy," he said her name still out of breath. "You okay?" She heard the doorknob turn and she closed her eyes as the door squeaked open. He saw her standing there, her hands resting on either side of the dirty sink. "Cuddy?" She didn't look at him, she closed her eyes.

"Get out. Please."

"Cuddy,"

"Just leave me alone, okay?" her voice sounded like it might crack at any moment. She opened her eyes to see him looking as broken and wounded as ever. She had never noticed what power she had over him before. Was this a new development, she wondered? He turned slowly to go. "I just," she started quickly, trying to catch him before he shut the door behind him. He stopped and turned back to look at her. "I just feel like," she couldn't finish the sentence.

"A hooker?"

"Yeah," she said, looking down. "Or an adulterer."

"Well, this is the usual venue for both so that's understandable."

She sighed heavily and exasperatedly, looking at herself in the mirror. "This isn't right," she said, shaking her head, her breathing still fast.

"Cuddy, I love you. You love me. Tell me what isn't right about that."

"House, it just wasn't a good idea."

"No," he agreed. "No, it wasn't. Not if you really are scared to be close to me." She sighed at the reminder of her words.

"House,"

"You don't need to explain." He wanted her desperately to explain but she was half naked in front of him and just had sex with him and he didn't want to push her, knowing she had nowhere else to retreat to.

"I want to," she said, wiping the almost-tears from her eyes.

"Okay," he turned around and walked over to the bed and moved the coats aside and sat down on it. She left the bathroom and followed him over and sat down next to him, bending one of her legs underneath her and letting the other rest on the floor.

"It's just that-" She fiddled with the corners of the adhesive bandage on her knee. "It hurt. What you did. And I'd always shied away from relationships for that reason."

"Cuddy, I won't happen again," he sighed, feeling like he'd said that for the hundredth time.

"You can't promise that."

"I can."

"That's not just it. That's not the only way you can hurt me." He seemed confused. "I've watched you self destruct for over ten years. And it was hard enough to see it happen from a safe distance. But to be with you would just make that so much harder. And you just- you don't care House."

"I care about you."

"But not about _you_. You live like you don't care about yourself. You don't care if your kidney's shut down from your drug or alcohol abuse. You don't care if you piss off one of your patients and they bring a gun into your office and shoot you. House, a relationship isn't just about caring about the other person. You have to take care of yourself too. I can't save you, House. I can't fix you. And I don't want to watch, helplessly as you suffer." She was almost shouting but she was angrier at their situation than at him.

"So none of this was about Wilson's assistant? Or that I treat you like crap? Or whatever you yelled at me about in your office?" She chuckled sadly.

"It was about that. I was angry. But I guess I also needed an excuse to get away from you. You're so," she paused trying to think of the word. "Intense," she settled on. "You're a lot to handle."

"I can't promise you that I'll take better care of myself," he said, looking down at his hands.

"I know," she responded. House bent over, resting his elbows on his knees and he put his head in his hands. She put her hand on his back.

"But you _do_ love me," he said, between his fingers.

"Yes."

"Did you really tell him you love him?" She sighed before answering.

"No. I told him I needed time." He seemed to relax a bit.

"But you will?"

"I don't know." She rubbed his back. He let out a deep, uneven sigh that shook a little. She leaned over and rested her head on his back, embracing him. They sat like that for a couple minutes. She listened to his breathing, her head rising and falling with the expanding and detracting of his lungs.

"Cuddy?"

"Hm?"

"If it really is what you want. I'll let you go." She lifted her head off of his back. He sat up to look at her. "Just tell me."

"House."

"I think I love you enough to do that for you." Cuddy thought for a moment, looking into his wounded eyes. His blue eyes that she loved so much. His eyes that couldn't hide from her. She looked in them and saw him half-full and not half-empty; she always saw that.

"I don't know," she answered perfectly honestly. "I don't want to be selfish and just give up on you just because I can't handle it.""

"Well, it's selfish of me to force you. So we'll call it even," he smiled sadly at her before looking back down at the dirty carpet between his feet. House looked as if he were giving up; after all he'd done to get her here. She watched him sink down with disappointment and she wondered if her choice might prove to be the most ironic of all. She'll have to watch him suffer still only now she is responsible more than ever. She put her hand back on his back and scooted a bit closer. She put both her legs up on the bed, letting her knees rest against his left thigh. He sat up and put his arm around her, bringing her into him and she rested her head underneath his chin.

"House, I want you to be happy." He chuckled at her childish sentiment.

"I know," he said, caressing the back of her head.

"Do I make you happy?" She turned her face up to look at him. He looked down at her calmly.

"Sometimes," he answered. "Not right now," he laughed.

"I know," she felt guilty. "But when we were together. When it was just sex. You seemed better," she recalled, having forgotten that until now.

"Did it make _you_ happy?"

"It was stressful," she admitted, "always thinking about how long we could keep it up."

"I didn't think about it."

"I bet. We were having sex every night. Why would you think about anything else?" She smiled.

"I also thought about _you_. Still do."

"Yeah," she agreed, her voice full of air. "I think about you too." He leaned his head over to kiss her, stopping short of her lips, imploring her to meet him half way. She did. This time their kiss was slow; there was no impatience, no urgency. Slow and calm and she let herself go. They breathed each other in, tasted each other. She gripped his face, he held her waist. She moved back towards the center of the bed, bringing him with her. She moved her hands to his shoulders, pulling him down until she was laying down and he was over her. He broke his mouth away from hers, still hovering over her.

"I'm not doing this if this is goodbye." She wrapped one leg around him and grabbed his shirt to pull him down to kiss her again. He got his answer and he seemed happy with it, kissing her with more vigor, massaging her tongue with his own. He moved his head from side to side, to get a better angle, never getting enough of her. He unbuttoned her shirt slowly and broke the kiss to look down at her topless form. He kissed the corner of her mouth lightly; he kissed her chin, then her neck. His mouth trailed down her collarbone and to her ribcage and his tongue went over her breasts and he took great care to pay equal attention to both. She ran her hands through his hair, closing her eyes, her hands moved to his shoulders, holding onto him, not wanting to let him go. His mouth traveled down her stomach, his hands still on her breasts: his tongue trailing down to her belly button, circling it.

His mouth moving even further, down to her pelvis and grabbing each side of her white, lacy underwear and slid them, slowly, down her thighs. Lifting herself off the bed for a moment, so he can slide them down her legs. He grabbed her legs, at her calves, just under her knees and he spreads them apart, gently. He slid his hands down her thighs and moved closer to her. He took the time to kiss her knee, on top of her bandage, remembering that he had brought her down when he fell, and had wounded her. The metaphor was not lost on him. She watched him kiss her and her head fell back on the pillow, bringing a hand to her mouth with a soft inhale. Her fingertips rested on her lips when she felt his mouth between her legs and she gasped again. He took his time, he wanted to show her how much he loved her. He wanted to prove it with his tongue. He doted on her and she gasped in deep sighs. Her voice strengthened as she spoke his name. "House," she breathed.

His hand reached up to rest on her stomach, the other wrapped around her thigh and pulled, bringing her closer to him. He drank from her, swallowing several times and she inhaled sharply and clutched the sheets at her sides.

"God," she breathed. "House." He moved faster and pulled harder on her so that she was even closer until he was completely buried in her.

She came, breathing heavily, with a handful of sheet in one hand and a handful of pillowcase in the other. He looked up at her and smiled softly. He propped himself up and crawled across the bed, over to her. He bent down and kissed her and she could taste herself on his lips She grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. His belt was still undone so she merely unzipped him and slid his pants down to his thighs.

"Your leg okay?" She asked, remembering the recent strain it has gone under.

"Yeah," he said, quickly as he slipped himself inside of her. They moved together and he looked at her with his blue eyes that she saw even when hers were shut. She melted under the heat of him and the weight of him. She felt a burning in her heart at the thought that he did love her. House loved her.

"Look at me," he told her, when her eyes had closed. She did and saw him telling her that he loved her. Not with his words but with the wrinkle in his brow, the glassy film over his eyes, his blue, undeniable stare. She gripped the sides of his head again and brought his face to hers. They kept their eyes open as their foreheads touched and they breathed the air from each others lungs. One hand went to his back as a sudden urgency to go faster came over her. Knowing exactly what she needed, he moved deeper and faster and her voice became louder and the headboard tapped against the wall. "Cuddy," he said, as they finished together. Her hands went to his back, embracing him, and then to his neck and the back of his head, bringing him in to kiss her. "I love you," he said in a whisper, breathing heavily. He moved from on top of her and sat up on one elbow facing her. She scooted over to him, nuzzling into him.

They stayed like that for a moment and Cuddy's pointer finger danced around his jaw and to his neck, where she traced the faint scar from when he'd been shot there. She kissed him on his neck.

"I love you too," she said. He lay down on his back and she moved to rest her chin on his chest, facing him.

"What are you going to do now?" He asked, with hope in his voice.

"I don't know." He was upset that her decision wasn't clearer for her. He didn't respond, just leaned his head back to look at the ceiling. "House." He still didn't look at her. She sat up and positioned her face over his so he had no choice but to see her. "House," she said again, pleading for understanding, though she didn't actually explain anything for him to understand. He closed his eyes, playfully avoiding her. She laughed. "Open your eyes," she sighed. He shook his head quickly like a five-year-old. "House," she said in a warning, motherly tone. He still didn't listen. She put her hand between his legs and squeezed him rather roughly, his eyes shot open and he gasped. She giggled at her triumph. He grabbed her hips and flipped her so that she was laying beneath him and she screamed playfully. He grabbed her wrists pinning her. He bent down and kissed her softly. "I love you," she told him, after he broke the kiss. It wasn't easy to admit the first time, but she was beginning to come around to the idea of being in love with him and telling him so.

"Then your choice should be easy." He said, into her mouth.

"It should be," she said with a sigh. He plopped back down next to her. She snuggled into him. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep. She lay awake, resting on his shoulder, taking in the smell of him. Occasionally turning down, resting her lips on his chest and kissing him as she thought about what she was going to do.

The next morning, they woke up, smiled their "good mornings," brightly. He was hopeful that she was as confident in him as he was in her. But he didn't ask. They had morning sex, dressed, and went outside and arranged for Wilson's car to be towed and the tire to be changed. They went to get coffee nearby as they waited for the car and the flirty-ness with which she made small talk and the way she would touch his knee, gave him hope. When the car was fixed, they took off back to Princeton. House was satisfied that his plan worked to the best of its abilities. The ride back was calm. They didn't speak much but they didn't need to. Cuddy asked him to take her home so she could change her clothes, then take her back to the hospital where she could retrieve both her car and her phone and make sure nothing had gone awry in her absence.

"You want me to come in?" House asked, after he pulled up in front of her house, officially ending their journey.

"If you want. But it'll only take me a minute. We're _not_ having sex," she smiled. She noticed that he had his eye suspiciously on something behind her. "What?" she asked, turning to see what he was looking at. In her driveway, she saw Kellerman's parked car. Her heart stuttered in her ribcage. Her eyes widened. She didn't want him to find out like this. "House," she said turning back to him. "It's fine, I don't need a ride back to the hospital." He rolled his eyes.

"You're kidding. Cuddy, you-"

"House, please? Just, let me take care of this." He hoped she'd meant 'let me get rid of him'. "Please?"

"Fine." He leaned in to kiss her, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one could see before kissing him back. She got out of the car and watched House hesitantly drive off before walking over to Kellerman's car, where he was asleep inside.


	11. Un Choix

Disclaimer: I do not own House MD or any of its characters. I do not stand to profit in any way from their use.

A/N: Well, I've got one more after this. At this point, I'm thinking no sequel, but have no fear; the current [wonderful!] Huddy arc has given me a lot to play with. I think I'll wait until it plays itself out, however, before I delve back into fanfiction. Thank you to everyone who has given me feedback. Some reviews left me feeling very fulfilled and definitely made my day. Of course, thank you to Pippa, the platonic love of my life. Also, thanks to Britta for giving me some feedback when I had concerns.

xxxx

Cuddy walked around to the driver's side of the car and saw Kellerman reclined in his seat, asleep. She knocked gently on the window. His head popped up, disoriented for a moment, then when he saw her, he seemed relieved. He unlocked his door and opened it, stepping out quickly to stand in front of her.

"Hey, where've you been?" His voice was concerned.

"I had a family emergency," she said, glancing to her right.

"Oh, well you weren't answering your phone and I was worried."

"I'm sorry, my phone was- it's at work,"

"Yeah, when I came to pick you up and you weren't there, I wasn't sure what to think.

"Oh, we were supposed to have dinner," she remembered, holding her hand to her forehead. She was beginning to feel even guiltier. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, how is everything?"

"What?"

"With your family."

"Oh it's fine. Everything is-" she took a deep breath. "Everything's fine."

"So I don't need to be worried about you?" He took a step closer to her and gently grabbed the edge of the lapel of her coat.

"No," she smiled. Her smile was contrived, he could tell.

"You sure?" He stepped even closer.

"Yeah, Ethan. I'm fine." He finally stepped close enough to kiss her. She accepted his kiss for several seconds before breaking the kiss, ducking her head down. He looked at her, confused.

"I'm just really tired," she said shaking her head.

"Yeah of course." He looked around for a moment. "Where's your car?" He asked, his brows furrowed.

"It's at the hospital." She dug in her purse for her keys and when she found them she walked to her front door, he followed her.

"I understand if you want me to go," he said, as she unlocked her front door.

"Yeah, Ethan I just need a little time alone right now."

"Okay," he nodded. "No problem." He turned to go, taking a few steps then stopping and turning back to her. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Yeah I-" She felt short of breath. "I'm fine, I'm just-" she stopped talking as she opened her door. She dropped her purse on the floor and the contents of it spilled out. She sighed.

"Oh, let me help you," He moved over to her and squatted, helping her pick up the items. He saw her Baby Ruth candy bar, her Circus Peanuts, Skittles and her Tic-Tac's. "You like candy, huh?"

"Oh," she said, looking down at the items. "Yeah," she said, lost in thought. Kellerman was beginning to feel unwelcome and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her off by seeming to clingy so he stood to go.

"Well, call me, okay?"

"Yeah," she said, still looking at her candy. He turned to go, feeling bewildered. "Ethan, wait." She called after him. He stopped and turned around to see her. "Come inside."

House arrived at his destination in the elevator and stepped out, turning left to head into Wilson's office. He opened the door without knocking in his usual manor and Wilson was sitting at his desk, writing something down. He looked up quickly to see House standing there.

Wilson watched expectantly as House closed the door behind him and made his way to the couch to sit. "Well?!" Wilson asked excitedly. House shrugged. "That's it? I must have called you fifty times. What happened? How's my car?"

"I turned my phone off," House explained, offering as little information as possible. "And your car is fine. It's got a brand new tire." Wilson was confused but ignored that for the moment.

"I can't believe you kept her out overnight."

"Well, that was the plan."

"Did you tell her how you felt?"

"Yep."

"And?!"

"And she loves me," House said casually. Wilson shook his hand in the air with a grin and a laugh.

"See? See? I told you." Wilson was excited, his voice was high and loud.

"She said she couldn't be with me," House said just as casually. Wilson's smile faded and his face changed to one of confusion.

"What? Why?"

"She doesn't want to watch me suffer," House shrugged. "But then we had sex." Wilson raised his eyebrows in surprise and opened his mouth to speak but House continued. "Actually we had sex, _then_ she told me she couldn't be with me, then we had sex again. And then again this morning." Wilson's face showed surprise, trying to figure out what to make of it.

"Ethan," Cuddy sighed. "I don't want to be this person." She stood, leaving her purse and its contents on the ground as Ethan closed the door behind him.

"What kind of person is that?"

"A liar. A cheat." He wasn't following at first. It took him a moment to shed his uncharacteristic naïveté.

"This is about, House, isn't it?" She nodded. "There was no family emergency?" She shook her head, looking down. "And you spent the night with him?"

"Yeah," she answered, looking back up at him. He nodded and reached his hand back to run his fingers through her hair.

"Shit," he said with a sad, artificial smile.

"I'm so sorry," she took a step closer to him but he backed away. She waited for him to yell at her or to walk out on her but he didn't. He just stood there, breathing heavily. The silence was long and awkward, she watched him, with her head slightly downward. His chest rose and fell deeply. He was thinking.

"You still love him," he stated finally.

"Yes," she admitted.

"Of course you do," he took a couple steps, as if pacing. "We sort of just jumped into things, didn't we?" She didn't respond quickly enough. "So, this is it? For us, I mean."

"You don't want it to be? Even after what I did?"

"I understand it. I'm angry, but I understand. And I can get past it. If you can get past him." She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and pointer finger. "But you can't," he sighed. "Can you?"

"Ethan,"

"Tell me that you can get over him and, uh," he paused, thinking. "and we can talk about it."

Wilson sat at his desk with his fingers laced together over his lap. He was leaning back in his chair, his eyebrows raised.

"So…" He brought his hands up to his desk to pull himself closer. "You didn't work it out?"

"I don't know. It seemed implied. But when I dropped her off at home, Kellerman was there. She told me to go."

"And you did?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Wilson didn't answer, just sat in silence for a moment, thinking.

"Well, what are you going to do now?"

"Nothing I _can_ do."

"So you're just gonna leave it alone? After you kidnapped her?"

"I'm going to let her make a decision."

"And just hope she chooses you." House shrugged and stood up. "That's probably best." House walked to the door but stopped just short of it.

"Don't talk to her about it."

"What?"

"I know you're planning on it. Don't" Wilson opened his mouth to protest but closed it again before any words could come out.

"Okay." He said and House left, limping back to his office with his head hung low. Wilson waited an hour before going to do exactly what House had asked him not to. As he passed Cuddy's assistant's desk, he saw through the window that she was on the phone. She looked up to see him as he entered and gave him a glare. He closed the door behind him.

"Alright," she said, into the phone. "Okay, I'll let you go. Thank you for your time. You're welcome. Take care." As soon as she hung up the phone she started into him. "I can't believe you! How could you betray me like that?"

"Hey, I recall you helping me kidnap House once before. You even drugged him," he said pointing a finger at her.

"To get him to go to his father's funeral!" she justified. "And I don't have to explain myself to you. You shouldn't have-"

"You don't think I wanted to keep my hands clean of this whole mess? I tried to stay out of it but you should have seen him. He was miserable and this close to OD-ing" He held his hand out and measured with his thumb and pointer finger.

"And that's my fault?" She did think it was her fault, but ignored that for now.

"No, it was his fault," he conceded. "Because he couldn't tell you he loved you. I just tried to help him to do that." She wanted to stay angry with Wilson, but her heart wasn't in it. "You mad?" She opened her mouth to answer him but he interrupted. "I mean, are we okay?" She paused before answering.

"Yeah," she sighed. "We're okay."

"Good," he nodded. "So, what now?"

"Now, I- I don't know what do to. Or what to think."

"Well, if you need someone to talk to," he trailed off.

"I thought you didn't want to any part of this."

"I'm your friend. I can listen… if you don't mind me inserting some of my own opinions. Maybe we could ask one of Ethan's friend's to come and be a representative for him," he joked. She smiled sadly, thinking that, like House, Ethan didn't have many friends. "You want to go eat tonight? We can get some dinner later and you talk, I'll listen."

"I don't know if I trust you to take me anywhere anymore," she said coyly.

"Hey, you can drive," Wilson smiled.

"Don't tell House."

"Trust me, I wont."

After he had left her office, Cuddy sighed, plopping her face down into her hands. On top of doing everything her job normally entailed, she had this added House/Ethan drama and she also couldn't help but stress about how many people knew. Who had Kutner told? And who did _they_ tell? How much do they know? Cuddy shook it off and stood, taking off her blazer, she walked to her coat rack and retrieved her lab coat, deciding to do some work in the clinic to keep herself busy.

When she went out to take a file from the wrack, she saw House exiting one of the exam rooms. She looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"What?" he asked, placing a file down on a rack and picking up another, then looking down, thumbing through it.

"You're in the clinic," she stated.

"And you're a Libra."

"Scorpio."

"That explains a lot."

"You're never in the clinic. At least not willingly."

"I'm here because you're here." She raised her eyebrows, surprised that he hadn't evaded. "You know that's why I'm here, you just wanted me to say it. Or you were curious to see if I would." They stared at each other for a moment, Cuddy smiled faintly with her eyes twinkling as they do sometimes. She then turned to the nearby nurse who was staring, as if telling her to mind her own business. After the nurse walked away, House continued. "You know, the Gemini and the Scorpio have a high level of love compatibility."

"That's not even true," Cuddy scoffed, looking down at the file in her hands.

"You don't know that."

"Well, neither do you. And you don't even believe in that."

"You don't know that either."

"Do you?" She asked challengingly, knowing that he, in fact, did not believe in the Zodiac.

"Depends."

"On whether we're compatible?" she smiled at him, knowingly.

"Maybe," he smiled back. He took her cell phone from his pocket and placed it on the counter, sliding it towards her. She took it with a roll of her eyes.

"Stop it," she said, walking around him, heading towards one of the exam rooms.

"Stop what?" he honestly had no idea.

"Being all cute," she said walking backwards, facing him. "It's too late to make that impression. I already know you." She turned to a group of patents sitting in the waiting area, called out "Carrie Nardie" and walked the woman into exam room one. After spending all of five minutes in the room with the woman and diagnosing her with a cold, she let the woman go as she stayed behind to write a few things down in her chart. She heard the door open and shut from behind her and didn't even bother to look up to see who it was.

"I can be cute," he joked. She looked up at him smiling, and rolled her eyes.

"You know, sometimes I like to actually do work at work. I know that's a strange concept for you because you only have two cases a month and you spend the rest of your time watching TV and playing games, but some people-"

"Oh shut up. Either you talk to me or you spend all your time thinking about me. Either way, I'm taking up your time."

"Wow, you are humble!" she laughed. "Score one for you."

"Oh, so you're keeping score?"

"Yeah, it's just a game," she said with sarcasm. "I like to pick who I date the same way you pick your employees."

"Oh snap! You should give yourself a point for that one."

"House, I have to get back to work." She made a move to walk around him but he just stepped in her way. He reached behind him and pulled a pale yellow flower out of his back pocket and presented it to her. She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"See? How cute is this?"

"You stole that from the arrangement in the lobby."

"It's the thought that counts."

"No it isn't," she smiled. She walked around him and out the door, conscious of all the eyes that darted away from their direction as she and House left the room together. She rolled her eyes, annoyed. She decided working in the clinic was a bad idea and headed back to her office. She felt him following her and turned around to face him "House," she began in a hushed, whiny tone. House didn't even wait for her to continue, he just turned and walked back to the nurses station, and went back to work. Satisfied with merely working in close proximity to her, ensuring he wouldn't leave her thoughts.

Cuddy walked back into her office, sat down, opened a file and looked through it. She picked up a pen and held it an inch away from the page, prepared to write something down if only she could focus on what she was supposed to be doing. House was right, she was so distracted; he may as well be in the room with her. Cuddy looked at her clock and saw that it would be a few hours before she and Wilson could go to dinner and she could vent and perhaps yell at him some more, depending on how she felt. She bided her time, every once in a while, looking up to see House looking in at her beside the nurse's station. He wouldn't shy away after being caught gazing, he'd stare her down and she thought she might melt. Then he'd turn away and go about his business in the clinic.

Later in the evening, the lights in the clinic were off, her assistant had gone home and light was no longer shining through the blinds. Cuddy was getting her things ready to go, sliding files into her briefcase, putting items away in her purse. She crossed the room to grab her coat when she heard the door open, she turned to find House standing in front of her, with his coat on and his blue backpack slung over one shoulder. She was surprised that he had stayed so late. He usually skips out early when he doesn't have a case. She continued to slide her arms into her sleeves.

"Dinner plans?" he asked, holding his breath.

"Yes," she answered, and saw him roll his eyes.

"You're still seeing that guy?" His voice turned almost angry.

"You know what, House? That's none of your business."

"It is if you're going to string me along?" She laughed at him.

"I told you we were finished. You kidnapped me, remember? I didn't string you along."

"So we're finished? Because, the way I see it, you haven't really given me a strait answer. You tell me we're done but then you have sex with me. Thrice." He held three fingers out. She shook her head, walking back to her desk. "You said this morning you were going to 'take care of this', whatever that means. So tell me, is anything taken care of? Or are you just going to continue to string me along?"

"Stop saying that. Yes we had sex. I am attracted to you. We were in a motel room and I was half naked and you were coming on to me. It was sex, I didn't promise you anything." He was incredulous. Was she actually trying to take it back?

"You know what?" He said, with a cavalier inflection. "Fuck this," he said, throwing his hands up casually. And he turned to go.

"House," he kept walking, she followed him out, the muted light of the empty clinic surrounding them. "House!" He stopped and turned around to face her. His eyes were livid. "I just need some time to think." She widened her eyes, begging for his understanding. "Please?" He nodded and turned around to walk out. She stood, watching him go before turning and getting her things. On her way out the door, Ethan called her and she told him she had dinner plans but, like House, declined to offer any details. She called Wilson and met him at one of her favorite restaurants.

"Hi," he smiled down out her as he sat. She smiled back at him.

"Thank you for coming. The last thing I need is to be alone at home where either one of them could show up. Probably both of them."

"And I'm here as a friend, not as a spokesperson for House. I only want what's best for you, you know that, right?" She smiled with a single nod before taking a sip from her decaf coffee. "So?" he asked, with his eyebrows raised. She didn't say anything; he could see that she was uncomfortable. Perhaps she just didn't know what to say. Or maybe it was that she didn't want to talk about them like she was buying a new car. Either way, he wasn't sure how to make her more comfortable. She played with her earring coyly like she did sometimes.

"Can we get something to eat first?" she said finally, looking around for a waiter. "I'm starving."

"House didn't feed you?"

"Oh, you mean when he kidnapped me?" she turned back to him, almost smiling. "We ate," she confirmed. "I just missed lunch." She hadn't the stomach for lunch. To be honest, she didn't really have all that much of an appetite now either but she was just procrastinating. She had been mistaken in thinking she was ready to talk about this. Then again, she agreed to have dinner with Wilson to get her thoughts strait. She watched Wilson wave a waiter over who came and took their orders. She ordered her favorite soup and Wilson ordered a salad.

"Ethan and I went on our first date here," she said, attempting to make small talk while the waited for their food to arrive.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, then we went and looked at the stars. You know, on that tower in the university." Wilson nodded, thinking he understood where she might be going with this.

"And you think House can't do things like that?"

"Can't or won't. Either way," she shrugged.

"Yeah, House isn't the romantic type."

"No, he isn't," she laughed.

"Is that what you want?"

"If I knew that, we wouldn't be here." Cuddy paused, thinking for a second. "You know, they're really not all that different. They're both brilliant. Neither of them are all that social, very blunt. They're both good in bed." She paused again. "But Ethan is the undamaged version."

"Can I just ask you a question? Completely unbiased and impartial?"

"Yes," she answered, with her eyebrows raised curiously.

"Let's say, you decide Ethan holds a better future for you-"

"-he does," she interjected.

"-and you completely break it off with House. What then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what happens at work? Between you and House."

"I was trying not to think about that."

"Well, it's important."

"So you think I should just pick House to avoid awkwardness? To make his department run more smoothly?"

"No, but you did tell him you love him, didn't you?" Cuddy opened her mouth immediately to deny it but, of course House had already told him about it.

"Yes."

"And you weren't lying?"

"Of course not!" She was a little offended.

"Do you love Ethan?"

'It's not that simple."

"It isn't?"

"You're a romantic," Cuddy laughed. "Maybe I should be dating you." Wilson's eyes darted away and he fidgeted for a moment before speaking.

"I think you're scared."

"What?"

"You don't want to love someone like House. You want to love Ethan, but you don't."

"I could love Ethan-"

"Do you really think you'll ever fully get over House?"

"I thought you weren't here as a spokesperson for House."

"I'm not. The answer to that question is important, no matter whose asking. You're just afraid to answer it."

"I'm not afraid!" she yelled, albeit in a whisper. "No, I don't think I'll ever get over him. I've been in love with him for a long time. But I can't keep up with him. I can't keep him happy and I'd rather spend the rest of my life with Ethan loving him just enough to get by than spending my life with House and hating myself for his misery that is completely out of my control. Not to mention watching him medicate his unhappiness with Vicodin."

"You really think you're powerless to stop that." Wilson didn't think so. But perhaps she needed to believe too before she could really take that leap.

"Yes," she stated, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Then I guess you have your answer," Wilson's voice was casual but his face was disappointed. They watched as the waiter walked by and placed their meals in front of them.

"He has been in a hospital bed more times than any other person on staff. Do you know what I go through, worrying about him?"

"Yeah, I do." Cuddy sighed, realizing that Wilson, being the best friend, did know. "But do you think it'll be any easier just because you're not sleeping with him?"

"Maybe I'll feel less responsible."

"Or more responsible."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Cuddy, it sounds like you've got your mind made up. We could talk about this all night and you'll keep choosing Ethan. Maybe he _is_ right for you. But I think you're choosing him now because it's easy."

"It's just that House is so toxic. I'm assuming he told you we slept together last night." Wilson gave her a knowing glance; she rolled her eyes before continuing. "It was like—all it took was just being close to him and I just," she trailed off. "And I just feel like shit about it."

"You didn't want it to happen?"

"No, I did. It's just- I could tell that he loves me, you know?"

"Sure," he insisted, as if this had been obvious for years.

"And I wish that were enough," she looked down. Having not even touched her soup.

"You gonna eat?" She put her elbow on the table and brought her hand to her face. Her eyes were hidden and he couldn't tell if she was crying or not but he decided not to pry. He took a few bites of his salad and pushed the food around a bit with his fork.

"Sorry," she said looking up and he could see that she had not been crying.

"It's alright," Wilson shrugged nonchalantly. She saw Wilson almost bouncing around, his eyes darted around as if there were something he wanted to ask her but was giving her time.

"What?" she asked, hoping he'd get to the point.

"Nothing," he said, looking around still.

"Wilson," she insisted warningly.

"I assume Ethan knows. About you and House."

"About last night? Yeah, I told him."

"You told him about _last night_?!" he asked hunching over his plate incredulously. "What did he say?"

"He said he could forgive me if I told him I could get over House."

"What'd you say?" He was on the edge of his seat.

"I said I needed time."

"Wow," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"I admire your moxie," Wilson stated, impressed. "And his mercy," he chuckled. Cuddy was still one of the strongest people he knew. She smiled, taking another sip of her coffee. He waited for a moment before speaking again. "You know, Cuddy, no one understands what it's like to be close to House better than me. And if you're waiting for him to open up, to be there for you in any grand way, then you'll only end up heartbroken. But if you let him figure out how to show you how he feels then it can be worth it." Cuddy watched him as he spoke, witnessing Wilson, who had been broken by House many times, struggle through his explanation. She knew he was right.

"I appreciate that. And I'm glad you're here. I need a friend right now. But this is a decision I ultimately have to make for myself."

"I agree," Wilson nodded. "I gotta tell you," Wilson began with a smile. "I don't know how House got a woman like you to fall in love with him."

"You know, I don't know either," she laughed.

"You seeing _him_ too?" A voice came from the left of their table. Cuddy's eyes darted over to where Ethan stood.

"Ethan. How'd you-"

"You said you were going to dinner. I figured you'd go here. And since House's technique of just showing up and running your meal seems to work on you so well, I thought I'd try it out."

"He has a point," Wilson nodded. Cuddy quickly turned to glare at Wilson. Then back at Kellerman.

"Ethan, please don't make a scene."

"I'm not House," Ethan said. "I'm not here to embarrass you or pressure you into anything. I just want to talk. You owe me that much."

"I owe you?" She asked incredulously.

"After what you did? I think so." He stared at her challengingly. He really was similar to House. Only if this were House standing there, everyone else in the restaurant would be staring, wondering who that jackass is. But Ethan managed to go by unnoticed by adjacent patrons. Cuddy looked back to Wilson.

"I've got the bill." She began to protest but her cut her off. "Cuddy, I got it. Go."

"Thank you," she said, her voice still angry, placing her hand on top of his before standing and following Ethan out of the front door.

"What the hell, Ethan?"

"Look, I'm sorry. I just want you to be happy."

"Well, that's admirable, Ethan but-"

"And House is not going to make you happy."

"Ethan-"

"I've known people like him before, Lisa. Cynical, abrasive jerks who think the world owes them something. I'm sure the idea of him is exciting to you now but he's dangerous. He's exciting right now but that'll ware off and he'll leave you ultimately unhappy."

"Ethan," she began angrily. "You don't even know him." She promised herself she wasn't going to do this.

"I know that he's not good enough for you. If he were, he wouldn't torture you like this. If he were, I'd step aside, you know I'd do that for you." He had an urgency in his voice.

"You're starting to sound like him," she said, rolling her eyes and turning away, walking down the street, towards her car.

"Maybe you have that affect on people."

"What are you saying?" she whirled around. "Don't blame me for the way you're acting. You're both childish."

"I'm not childish, I'm trying to be honest with you."

"By storming into a restaurant where I'm eating with a friend then practically dragging me out with you and yelling in my face? What isn't childish about that?" She turned again and started walking.

"You don't know what's good for you." He said and she stopped and turned back to face him.

"I know I don't need that decided for me."

"Look," he said, taking a breath. "I really don't want to push you away, and I have a feeling that's what I'm doing. I really just want you to be happy. If that means I get to have you, then yeah, I'm gonna be little more aggressive about your happiness." She smiled at him but said nothing. "And like I said earlier today. I'm willing to forget about this if you are."

"I don't want you to forget about this, Ethan. _I_ don't want to forget it." He opened his mouth to explain himself but she spoke over him. "Why do you love me?"

"What?" He was caught off guard.

"You said you loved me yesterday. Or you thought you did. Why?"

"You're beautiful, smart, funny. How could I not love you?"

"Okay," she nodded and turned away, towards her car.

"I'm not done yet." She turned around, looking up into his face. "That's what caught my eye, sure. I'm not the kind of guy who asks a woman out or even goes out of my way to be with her." He took three steps closer, until there was no distance between them. "Before I met you, I had different priorities. But now when I look at you, you're all I want. Nothing else matters." He placed each hand firmly on her shoulders, bringing her to him. "And yes. You're beautiful and you're smart. And we work together. You're amazing. You're all I think about." She took a step into him and their mouths met and he didn't wait to deepen the kiss as he usually did. He slid his hands up her shoulders to rest on her ice cold cheeks. His tongue moved with hers for a moment before she broke away from him and immediately turned to go.

"Lisa," he called after her.

"I still need to think, Ethan."

"I can respect that," he nodded slowly and watched her get into her car and drive away before getting into his own.

After paying the bill, Wilson walked out of the restaurant and heard his phone begin to ring. He reached in his pocket, pulled out his phone and saw that House was calling him. He answered it, looking around paranoid, as if House might be lurking somewhere.

"I thought I told you not to talk to her let alone have dinner with her," House said. Wilson looked around even more frantically.

"Are you following her?"

"You've harassed me for the past week. I figured since you weren't butting in from my end, you must be butting in from hers." Wilson hesitated before conceding.

"Yes, we had dinner," Wilson sighed. House sighed, as if relieved to know she wasn't with Ethan tonight. He continued his angry routine, however.

"I told you expressly not to talk to-"

"Oh, like I told you not to sleep with my assistant? Lisa's my friend, House. I can have a meal with her if I-"

"How was dinner?"

"Cut short," Wilson answers impulsively.

"By what? Or should I say who?" Wilson thought about whether or not to tell House was really happened. If he told the truth, House would probably go strait over to Cuddy's to interrupt them. But he didn't much like lying. Also, if House couldn't trust her tonight, how could he ever?

"Ethan showed up."

"Did they leave together?"

"They were just going to talk. House… House?... Hello?" Wilson looked at his phone to see that House had hung up and he tried calling him back but he didn't pick up. Wilson considered how much more meddling he really wanted to do. After thinking for a moment, he decided to head home. If house couldn't handle himself tonight, how could handle a relationship? Wilson got in his car and drove back to his apartment.

House was storming out of his house, nearly forgetting his cane. He saw the newly fallen layer of snow and decided he didn't want to waste time brushing it off so he took his motorcycle instead, despite how icy and slick the roads would no doubt be. He made his way to Cuddy's with haste, trying not to skid too much on the thick patches of ice that hadn't yet began to melt under the chemistry of the salt peppered on the ground.

When he arrived at his House, he left his can in on his bike and limped to her door before knocking loudly. He heard her feet on the floor as she approached and he waited anxiously. When she opened the door he ignored the annoyed look on her face and barged in.

"House, what are you-"

"Is he here?" His voice was loud intrusive. She crossed her arms.

"No. But you need to go."

"I'm not going anywhere until you give me an answer."

"House,"

"Yes or no, Cuddy. I'm sick of your shit."

"You're sick of _my_ shit? I'm sick of your shit, House. You think you can just walk in here and-"

"I didn't come here to fight with you. I don't want to keep having the same argument over and over again."

"That's what our lives would be like, House. Fighting. All the time. That's what we do. When was the last time we had a conversation that didn't start or end in a fight?"

"This morning. We had coffee. Not only were we not fighting, but you were flirting with me. Everything was fine until that guy showed up."

"Don't make this about him. It's _your_ problems that started all of this."

"Yeah, you don't want to be miserable like me, I remember."

"That's not what I said."

"And you know what? I _will_ make this about him. If it weren't for him, you wouldn't be making up all these excuses."

"What?" The pitch of her voice was high as it was so often when she was flustered. "There you again, ignoring everything I say. I told you that I didn't want to watch you be miserable and go crazy trying to fix you when you clearly don't want-"

"What would he say if I told him we slept together last night? That might make your decision easier."

"I already told him," she said loudly.

"What?" The muscles around his mouth relaxed and his brow wrinkled. 'She must be lying,' he thought.

"I told him," she said with far less conviction. "I didn't want to lie to him."

"And what did he say?" he asked with widened eyes and raised eyebrows.

"He said he could get over it. If I could get over you." She was looking down at her hands.

"Just like that? He's a pushover," he scoffed.

"He loves me."

"And it was just that easy to tell him? Like it meant nothing?"

"I didn't say it was easy to tell him and I didn't say it didn't mean anything."

"If it's not worth hiding," House shrugged and trailed off, not even bothering to finish his sentence.

"House,"

"You were right to want to get away from me."

"I don't want to get away from you I just think that-"

"It doesn't matter. I'm walking away." He held his hands up, as if attempting to appear unarmed.

"What?" she asked angrily. "Why now?"

"Doesn't matter," he turned to go.

"Don't you dare walk away like that!" He whirled around with conviction.

"Cuddy, you had a choice to make. You've made it." He looked into her face and saw her expression recoil in surprise. "Anyway, I'm better off alone."

"That's bullshit, you're just shutting down."

"Maybe," he shrugged casually. "Either way, I'm making your life a lot easier."

"I don't need you to make it easy for me!" He watched her, her chest rising and falling nervously. He watched her for a moment calmly before responding.

"Goodnight," he said with one abrupt nod of his head.

"Stop!" She ran around him to the front door, blocking him from it.

"Boy you're easy. I play a little hard to get and you come running?"

"Why do you love me?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Just answer me."

"So you can have something else to pick apart?"

"No, I just- I want to know."

"I can't give you an answer to that." His voice was somber, his head tucked down.

"Why not?"

"Because there isn't one!"

"There's always an answer. Isn't that something you say? You just don't _know_ the answer."

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out." He tried to move around her but she merely stepped in his way.

"See? This is the shit I can't stand."

"What?" he sighed, annoyed at her apparent desire to prolong this.

"You just half-commit and you think it's enough just because it's more than you're used to. You can't give me one reason why you love-"

"Because you don't want a reason! You want an excuse to walk away guilt free. You think maybe if I don't really love you enough then maybe it'll be a little easier to-"

"You don't know what you're talking about. You just analyze every little thing everybody does and half the time it's _wrong_ but that doesn't matter so long as it distracts you from looking at yourself!"

"Oh," he laughed. "That's just- that's spot on. The doctor can diagnose everyone but himself. Poetic. Maybe you should write the novel."

"And then you just trivialize everything by making it into a joke."

"I don't have to put up with this. You turned _me_ down."

"Aren't you enjoying this? Isn't this fun for you?"

"What?" he laughed.

"You like to push people away."

"Cuddy, I didn't need to push you away. You ran away. You ran away because you're scared."

"Don't make this about me."

"Of course. This is _my_ fault. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with you."

"Yes it has to do with me. It has to do with me not wanting to commit to putting up with your shit for the rest of my life."

"You told me last night that you would let me go if it was what I wanted. You said you loved me enough to do that."

"But that's not what you're telling me, is it? What exactly do you want?"

"I don't know," she answered hesitantly.

"You told me that you didn't want to watch me suffer," she didn't answer, just looked at him sadly. "So you have doubts about me." His voice was casual.

"Of course." Her voice was angry.

"And you don't have doubts about Ethan? That it'll work between you two."

"No, I know it'll work I just-"

"There you go."

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean_," he paused a second, taking a step in. "What's left to think about?" he shrugged. She stood with her arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed heatedly. He moved to walk around her but stopped just beside her. "But, I think," he began evenly, "a commitment made without doubt isn't really much of a commitment at all." He gave her a half-smile, somewhat happy to trouble her as much as she was troubling him. He continued to exit.

She didn't watch him go as he closed the door. She heard the start of his motorcycle and she went into her living room to sit on her couch. House had just made her decision for her, but she wasn't sure she was satisfied with that. She brought her knees to her chest, hugging them, and she thought about what her life would be like with Ethan. He would do anything for her. He worked as often as she did so she didn't have to try so hard to make time. She was attracted to him and had many interests alike. She couldn't think of a single thing wrong with him. But did his flawlessness make her happy? Is it what she wanted? He could forgive her indiscretion, and that meant a lot. But is that enough?

She loved House and had for a very long time. Maybe even since she met him in college. But he was a burden. It wasn't that she didn't want to take care of him. She just didn't know if she could. And if she failed and he ended up needing a new liver or ODing (as is bound to happen sooner or later), it would destroy them both completely. Being in a relationship with House would be the equivalent to knowingly stepping in front of a train.

She drew circles on her knees with the tip of her pointer finger. She watched little drops of tears fall from her eyes and plop onto the fabric of her sweatpants. Promising she wouldn't lie to herself, she knew what she wanted. She wanted it desperately. The only question that remained was whether she could have it.

It was as if all she needed was to be alone to see things more clearly. She wiped the moisture from her face and got up off the couch, having reached a tentative decision. She went to her computer, which sat atop a large wooden desk. To the left of the computer was the pile of candy that House had gotten her. She smiled to herself as she picked up the bag of Skittles, tore the corner off the red paper wrapping and sifted a small green piece of candy from the bag. She rarely ever ate candy, in fact, she was sure she didn't keep any in the house. She put the small piece of candy in her mouth and sucked on it as she sat down at her computer, getting an idea that made her smile even wider.

After several minutes of typing, clicking, and scrolling, she hit the print button as she heard her cell phone ringing in the next room she grabbed her paper from the printer tray, and a skittle that had spilled onto the desk and through it in her mouth as she jogged into her kitchen where her purse sat on the counter. She sifted through the items inside it until she saw the glowing light of her cell phone and she pulled out, quickly looking to see that it was Wilson calling before answering it.

"Yeah?" She said, turning around to prop her waist against the counter. "Wilson, just tell me," she said, annoyed at his wanting to protect her. "What?!" She sat up strait, pushing off from the counter and rushing into the next room, ready get involved. "But he's okay, right?" She asked, slowing down, not breathing, waiting for his response. She sighed in relief when he answered. She took a few moments to collect herself. "Yeah," she breathed. "I'm fine." She breathed a few more times heavily. "This is exactly what I was talking about. Do you see what I mean?" she sounded more annoyed now than concerned. "Of course I'm coming," she said incredulously. "Don't be ridiculous." She moved to grab her keys and purse. "Wilson, I want to. I will see you there." Then she hung up the phone and slid into her coat and shoes by the front door. As her hand reached the doorknob, she remembered the paper she'd printed out earlier and rushed back to the kitchen to grab it before running out the door and into her car, making a quick call, then speeding her way to the hospital.

When she arrived, she rushed into the building, and made her way to the ER. She walked in slowly, looking around before spying Wilson who waved her over. She walked down the row of hospital beds until she saw him laying down in a hospital gown, the back of his bed propped up. One side of his face was covered in scratches and bruises. His leg bad leg was propped up and wrapped, having been fractured in several places. Cameron and Wilson were hovering over him.

"Don't flatter yourself. This has nothing to do with you," he insisted to Cuddy. "The roads are icy." She just smiled.

"Let's give them a minute," Wilson said to Cameron, who reluctantly nodded and walked away with him.

"This is desperate, even for you," Cuddy smiled. Knowing he was pain-free on morphine, she spared him her sympathy.

"I just said this has nothing to do with you." He sounded grumpy, not nearly as pleasant as she did. Though he didn't look half as good either.

"Uh huh," she said, sitting down at the foot of his bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. I chipped my patella and I've got some scrapes and bruises. I don't know why he called you."

"Maybe because you're a valued employee, and I'm your boss," she offered.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it." He plopped his head back on the pillow that was propped up on the inclined part of the bed. "So, now you see that I'm fine, you can go."

"I'm not leaving. Not yet, anyway."

"Really?" he asked annoyed. "We haven't fought enough for you?"

"I led you on," she conceded, with a nod. He propped his head up to look at her. "When I slept with you last night, I led you on. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted, now leave me alone."

"Hang on, I brought something," she said, looking down at her purse, grabbing the paper she'd printed off. He eyed her curiously as she prepared to read from it. "'Gemini and Scorpio Compatibility'," she read the title aloud. House grunted and plopped his head back on the pillow. "'This is not a very good match for you, even though it might start strongly. The major differences in your temperaments and personalities make this relationship unstable and it rarely lasts long-term.'" House sighed as she continued to read. "'The Gemini boy is often drawn to a Scorpio girl for the passion he senses within her. You have an intensity that fascinates him. However, he can't give you what you need in a relationship.'"

"It does not say that!" He said, springing his head up.

"I'm not done," she scolded and continued. "'You need total commitment from your boyfriend. - and he can't sit still long enough to make one. He's a restless guy who changes his mind constantly, including when it comes to who he likes best. He's a big flirt and he hops from girl to girl. You will be miserable in this situation. It's a bad match for you.'"

"Yeah, I'm a real ladies man."

"That's not what it said, it said you're a flirt. And in your case, you hop from prostitute to prostitute. Or do you get the same one every time?" He chuckled, knowing it was a rhetorical question. She smiled before continuing. "Here, listen to this: 'There is potential here as long as both share a love of drama, sporadic separations and dramatic reunions. To make this one work, Scorpio should provide Gemini lots of freedom and Gemini should speak from the heart to Scorpio'." She looked up and eyed him before continuing. "'Sex can be horrible or amazing. This union is best for a one-night stand. Both signs will need to make many adjustments and compromises if a long-term relationship is desired. A one-night stand could, however, lead to resentment or deception. This relationship receives a rating of: 'what were you thinking?'"

"Is this how you plan to convince me we're not-"

"No," she interrupted, putting the piece of paper next to him on the bed. "I just thought it was funny."

"Yeah, well it's bullshit."

"Maybe," she smiled, nodding.

"You know, Scorpio's are known for being promiscuous."

"That's not true," she laughed.

"Yeah," he smiled "It is."

"Well then," she began, picking up the paper again and ripping it in half. "That's bullshit" He smiled at her for a few moments before letting it fade from his lips.

"Cuddy," he began, looking down at his hands.

"I called Ethan on the way over here." She was looking down as well. His eyes shot up to look at her. "And I asked him if I could see him tomorrow. For breakfast." She still wasn't looking at him.

"Why are you telling me-"

"I'm going to break up with him." House raised his eyebrows in surprise and a smile slowly crept onto his face. He sat up slightly. "Be careful," she said quickly, instinctively hovering a hand over his leg. He didn't bother to chastise her for thinking she knew better than him when it came to his pain.

"So…" He wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't even sure he could believe she would go through with it.

"It doesn't mean that you and I are going to be together." He furrowed his brow in confusion. "As of now, I'm not choosing either of you. I'm choosing… me. I think I had forgotten that I don't need a man in my life."

"Yeah, you lasted forty years without one," he poked at her. She rolled her eyes. "So, you don't want to be with me?"

"I didn't say that. We just have a lot of things we have to work out first."

"Like what?"

"Like you and your masochistic lifestyle."

"You're the one whose into bondage," he said intentionally loud so that a nearby nurse looked callously in his direction

"And how you make a joke out of _everything_."

"So all you want is… for me to change everything about myself?"

"No," she laughed. "But maybe opening up to me a _little_ is a start."

"I don't even think I know how to do that." She laughed at him.

"And you need to stop popping pills like candy."

"You want me to cut back on my drug use." His face was serious, concerned even.

"I know it's asking a lot of you but you don't have to do it."

"You're giving me an ultimatum?"

"Yes."

"Do you know how painful that would be?" She nodded. "And you don't care."

"I care. That's why I'm doing this. House, you're going to kill yourself." She moved closer to him on the bed. "And I don't want to watch that happen." His instinct was to turn her down and run for the hills. He looked away, over to his right, at anything but her. "I'm not asking you to get off of Vicodin all together. Just enough to where it's not going to trash your liver in the next couple years."

"Trust me. If I detox, you won't want to be around me then, either."

"I'd stand by you if I knew you were-"

"Suffering for you? As opposed to arbitrary suffering? Who wants that?"

"You'd detox to get out of clinic duty but not for someone you supposedly love? You only make sacrifices for yourself."

"I'm selfish. Wow. What a twist ending!"

"See? This is you pushing me away. Like Stacy. When she told you she'd leave Mark, you-"

"This is nothing like that."

"It's exactly like that." They sat in silence for a moment.

"Is this your way of gauging how committed I am to you? If I have to pick between you or my addiction?"

"No, House. This is my way of trying to save both your life _and_ our relationship." They sat in silence for a minute listening to the beeping of his heart monitor, watching the morphine drip into the plastic bag next to them. She wondered if he would do this for her. He wondered if he could.


	12. Épilogue

A/N: I'm extremely sorry it has taken me so long to update. I don't like to write AU so I felt a little discouraged after a while (post baby stuff, etc). I apologize that this chapter is so short, but I wanted to update and I didn't want to force anything. But, as short as it is, I enjoyed writing it and I seriously hope you enjoy reading it. If I come out with another fic, it'll be in the summer so we can all get our House fix during hiatus. Until then, I'll be enjoying the last few episodes of the show and looking forward to any future Huddyness. Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing and recommending my fic. Enjoy!

xxxx

One Year Later…

Cuddy sits alone at the table, staring at the expensive stain resistant tablecloth under her fingertips. She sips at her drink, occasionally stirring it around in a circle watching the liquid sweep up the ice in a little tornado inside her glass. She rummages through her purse that sits at her feet, between her chair and the wall. She retrieves her cell phone and looks at the time with a sigh as she glances up at the door of the restaurant to see a man and a woman entering, dressed in a suit and an expensive vintage Chanel dress. The man has his arm around the woman's waist as they speak to the hostess who seats them promptly. Cuddy was busy watching the wealthy couple and didn't notice that someone coming from the direction of the bar was approaching her.

"Hello," says the man standing over her, in front of her table.

"Hi," Cuddy responds, eyeing him curiously.

"I was sitting over there at the bar and I noticed you sitting here all alone. I thought you might like some company."

"I'm expecting someone," Cuddy says with raised eyebrows, almost irritably.

"Consider me a seat filler. An understudy," the man said, taking a seat across from her. "A beautiful woman shouldn't have to sit alone, waiting on a man."

"Who said I was waiting for a man?"

"I can tell. And not much of a man, he is."

"What makes you say that?" Cuddy tries to hide a smile.

"Well he's left you here all alone."

"No, he's great, really."

"I doubt it. What's his name?" Cuddy thinks about this for a second, debating whether or not to indulge this man who has sat down in front of her.

"Ethan," Cuddy smiled widely at the sound of his name.

"Ethan," the man repeats with a vague sense of dislike. "Sounds like a tool."

"He isn't. He's a great guy. He's sweet, treats me well. In fact, it's very out of character for him to make me wait like this," Cuddy's voice is laced with a sense of righteousness.

"It happens to the best of us. If he's as great as you say, he should be walking in at this very second." They both look up at the door. No one is there. "Hm… very queer."

"Indeed," Cuddy says, taking a sip from her glass.

"How did you meet this Ethan?"

"It's a long story," Cuddy says with a smile, thinking back on the tale.

"My guess is, we'll have plenty of time for you to tell it while you wait."

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Javier."

"Javier?" Cuddy laughs.

"What's funny about that?"

"Nothing," Cuddy says, hushing her laughter. "Well, Javier, Ethan and I met a little over a year ago at a medical conference."

"Very romantic."

"Yes, very."

"Well, that wasn't a very long story at all."

"It's much longer and much more convoluted than that."

"But you fell in love with him at a medical conference?" The man sounded more accusatory than curious.

"No."

"No?"

"No. That didn't happen until much later."

"Oh?"

"Yes. See, I was dating someone when I met Ethan."

"The plot thickens. Who were you dating?"

"Someone from work. An employee, actually."

"Well, that hardly ever works out."

"I knew that going in."

"What was his name?"

"House."

"House? Like where people keep their things?" She nods with a laugh. "What kind of a name is that?"

"Greg House."

"Right, you doctors call each other by your last names. And did you call him House when you dated him?"

"Yes," Cuddy answered, her smile widening. She hadn't really given a thought to how strange that was.

"Well, that's weird."

"I know."

"So what happened with House?"

"We broke up," she shrugged, taking another sip of her drink.

"Over Ethan?"

"No. House cheated on me." The man named Javier seemed to flinch at this.

"He did not," the man said, his voice rip with disgust.

"Yes he did," Cuddy responded challengingly. "We weren't really dating at the time, mind you. We were just fooling around."

"Well, whose stupid idea was that?"

"His."

"He's an idiot."

"You're starting to sound like House." The man who called himself Javier smiled.

"He sounds rude."

"He is. He was very abrasive. Didn't get along with anyone."

"Surely he got along well with you, otherwise you wouldn't have dated him."

"No, we fought," Cuddy stated casually. "A lot."

"But you were his boss. You could have fired him."

"He had his charms. And besides, I knew he was a jerk when I hired him."

"Then why did you hire him?"

"I don't know why I'm telling all of this to you, Javier. I've only just met you," Cuddy evaded, wondering if she would talk to a stranger like this under different circumstances.

"I have that affect on people. So, why did you hire the jerk?"

"He would say it's because I'm naïve."

"What would you say?"

"Because he's brilliant," Cuddy sated, as if it weren't a compliment at all.

"You didn't hire him because you were in love with him?"

"Maybe," Cuddy looked down at her drink coyly, taking a sip. "But we'd been working together long before we actually dated."

"I thought you were just fooling around."

"Right. We were. It felt like more than that though. I think we both knew it was."

"So why would he cheat on you?" The man asked, and watched the woman across from him try to stifle her warm little smile.

"You'd have to ask him."

"Why do you think?"

"He was afraid of committing to me."

"I don't think so."

"You don't even know him."

"I can relate."

"So, then, Javier. Why _did_ he cheat on me?"

"He made a mistake," The man shrugged.

"That doesn't mean he wasn't afraid of comit-"

"Not every man is afraid of commitment."

"No, not _every_ man, but House was."

"Alright then. He cheated on you, he broke your heart. Then you started dating Ethan and the rest is blissful history?"

"Sort of. I started dating Ethan, but I never really was over House. Not right away."

"So, what did you do?" The man leaned forward with his elbows on the table.

"Well, House just wasn't making it easy for me to move on."

"How so?" The man smiled, imagining the trouble this woman had gone through.

"He would come into my office, start fights with me, show up at my house."

"That sounds painful," the man said with a sympathetic tone. Cuddy could tell that it wasn't all too genuine, but she didn't care.

"It was." Cuddy looked at the man across from her, she looked into his familiar blue eyes. She never thought of blue eyes the same way. Not since she first met House. Not since she'd been wrapped up in him the way she was. She let her back fall against the back of the cushioned seat. "Until eventually, he kidnapped me."

"He what?" The man asked loudly with a hand over his chest, catching the attention of nearby patrons.

"Yeah," she nodded with a chuckle. "He got his _one_ friend to trick me into getting into a car and he took me to a motel in Pennsylvania."

"And you called the police? How did you escape the madman?"

"I didn't. I remembered why I loved him."

"And why was that?" Asked the man, still feigning shock.

"Because he was crazy. And an ass. And brilliant. And romantic."

"He doesn't sound romantic."

"He's just about the most romantic person I've ever met. In his own way."

"So why didn't things work out? Why did you pick Ethan over him?"

"I didn't. I wanted House. I had planned to break up with Ethan and I told this to House. On the night he'd gotten into this ridiculous motorcycle accident."

"And?"

"And I said that in order for us to work, he would have to take less medication-- Did I mention that he's a drug addicted cripple?" The man shook his head with raised eyebrows. "And I said he would have to open up to me more."

"And what did he do?"

"He…" she stalled for a second, thinking. "He said he would think about it."

"He would think about it? What kind of noncommittal bullshit is that?" The man almost smiled.

"Yeah, I know," Cuddy responded, smiling sadly.

"So what did you do?"

"I- I went to break up with Ethan but- just as I was about to do it," she paused for dramatic effect. "I couldn't. I thought, House has been leading me on for years. I can't expect that to change."

"Sounds like you really dogged a bullet." Cuddy nodded in agreement. The man nodded quietly, thinking of his next question. Cuddy watched his face until he came up with what to ask her. "So, where is he now?"

"House? He's, um, he's just pathetic," she said in a high-pitched, casual voice. "He's increased his dosage and now he can barely function. He showed up to work drunk until I eventually had to fire him. Now, I never see him. Except for occasionally when he camps out in front of my house in his old beat-up car. Just watching." Javier chuckled at her description of, what sounded like, the most miserable person on the planet.

"Watching?" The man who called himself Javier raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Yeah, he just watches my house. I feel really sorry for him."

"And you and Ethan are happy?"

"Very."

"And you never look back?"

"Never."

"Bullshit," he stated challengingly.

"Excuse me?"

"Bullshit. I bet you regret that decision every day of your life." She sat there staring up into his blue eyes. She left him waiting with a blank stare until, slowly, the faintest smile found it's way onto her lips.

"Every day." She waited a beat before adding "happy anniversary." A smile formed on his long, gaunt face, speckled with stubble that he stubbornly refused to shave, even when they went out to nice places like this one.

"Our anniversary was, technically a couple months ago. A year after we did it on your car."

"No!" she shouted playfully, with a sexy grin. "That does _not_ count, House. We weren't actually together then."

"But it _felt _like it, right? That's what you said."

"Whatever. We're here now. Why were you so late?"

"I thought it was fashionable."

"To let me sit here alone for ten minutes? Not really."

"You mad?" He asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

"A little annoyed," she shrugged.

"Sorry," he stated casually.

"Thank you for putting on a tie. And wearing an ironed shirt."

"You left it out for me, what was I going to do?"

"Well, thank you for putting it on."

"I know, how romantic of me."

"Javier." She chuckled. "really?"

"What's wrong with Javier? I wanted something ruggedly handsome."

"You don't look like a Javier."

"I don't look ruggedly handsome?"

"Oh, you're rugged alright," she said, leaning forward, gently resting her fingers on the side of his scruffy chin. "And handsome" she gently placed her lips on his for a short kiss. She pulled away and his were closed. "Had you planned that whole 'admiring stranger' thing?"

"Nope. Just came up with it on the spot. Impressive, I know. What about your alternate reality? Been thinking about that a lot lately?"

"Not since the night of your little slip-and-fall on your bike. When you agreed to things _my_ way." He eyed her suspiciously. "Don't be jealous," she smiled.

"I don't _do_ jealous."

"Oh," she practically snorted. "That's true. You're a very rational person when it comes to me and other men."

"That's right."

The waiter approached their table and opened his mouth to speak only to have House cut him off.

"Back off, she's mine!" House barked at the water, drawing the attention of a few neighboring patrons.

"I… I wasn't," the waiter stumbled before Cuddy intervened.

"He's joking." She turned to glare at House for a second before turning her attention back to the waiter.

They ordered their respective meals and had conversation all through dinner, never in want of something to talk about. After dinner, they left the restaurant, House's hand resting on the small of her back as they walked.

xxxx

End.


End file.
